Of Fashion and Rebellion: Haymitch & Effie
by Amanduhx3
Summary: Haymitch/Effie. How Haymitch, in his mostly drunken stupor and smartass demeanor, turned Effie Trinket from a ignorant Capitol citizen into a Rebel.
1. First Impressions

**Chapter One: First Impressions**

"I assume you know the mentor you'll be working with," The Head of Careers tells me as he opens a door, only to reveal a stocky middle-aged man passed out on the couch. I back up a little when I see he has a knife in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. The Head of Careers turns and gives me a sympathetic smile as he walks away, getting back to his work. He was only showing me to my new co-worker's room. I survey the room before entering. The room has white walls and a white floor with a dark brown couch in the middle of the room. There's a small wooden end table next to the couch and a dark red, shaggy rug in front of the couch. There's a fridge in the back of the room and a door I'm assuming leads to a bathroom, plus more pieces of typical hotel furniture scattered. Some of it is even knocked over, like the TV. The furniture is stained and dirty, the walls having holes the size of bowling balls in various places. If you look closely, there's even a few knife marks. Straightening my favorite glitter pink wig on my head, I step inside cautiously.

"Hello, Haymitch! It's time to get up, up, up!" I say happily, walking into the room. I know this is not where Haymitch lives, just the room he gets in the hotel during the Games, which makes me wonder how bad his actual house is. The reaping was in five days and all the mentors and escorts had to meet up for Pre-Games planning. This would be my first year as an escort, so of course I would get the worst district, meaning District 12. I was hoping to get a Career district after my second year, and Haymitch was _not _going to spoil my plan. Haymitch doesn't stir so I repeat myself, only this time about two octaves louder.

"Grrmmh, ugh," Haymitch mumbles, stirring a little. I squint my eyes at his drunken figure. His shirt is pulled up, showing quite an impressive stomach for such a heavy drinker. It's not exactly fit, but he doesn't have that much of a beer belly either. The smell of his room catches my notice, making me gag.

"Haymitch Abernathy, get up this instant. I may be new but I know all about you and your drunken shenanigans, and I want you to know that I will NOT be treated in such a manner as this." I say vehemently. Haymitch sits up quickly, clearly startled, swinging his knife in the process. His knife meats my arm and he gives me a pretty deep cut from my wrist to my elbow. Pain fills my body and I let out a scream and fall to the floor. It feels like I can't even breath and I start crying, clutching my bleeding arm.

Haymitch eyes me curiously as he regains his full consciousness.

"Suck it up, sweetheart," Haymitch says over my screams, "the kids you're so excited to escort are going to go through a lot more than that." He doesn't even bother looking at me as he gets up. I want to get up and scream at him about how he could ever do this to a lady, a Capitol citizen, his new co-worker, how he was a drunk bastard who should have died in the Games and let someone else win, but the pain is too bad and I just lay there on the floor, clutching my arm and screaming. I don't even know where he went. He comes back a minute later with a pack of ice and a bandage. I look up at him, his figure blurry from the tears in my eyes, and he grunts before throwing the bandage and ice beside me. The ice is cool next to my knee, where it lands. The bandage lands close to my face and has a strange odor.

"Clean yourself up." he says, sitting down on the couch. I give him a 'are you completely insane?' look. _As if I'm a doctor_, I think. _I'm reporting him as soon as I get fixed! This is not acceptable._

"Better hurry up sweetheart, don't want to bleed to death." he teases. it's then that I notice the puddle of blood around my upper body. I whimper some more before Haymitch gets off his ass to come finally help me. He props my upper body up on his knee as he bandages me up and puts ice over it, which doesn't really help any. Most of the time I have my eyes shut, still in an unbelievable amount of pain. _Who carries a knife in their sleep and attacks people with it when they wake up? Haymitch __Abernathy, bastard of the year, apparently. _I'm already loathing this years Games when I realize that I have to work with this joke.

"You're going to need stitches. I'll call someone." he says bluntly, and I could swear I saw him smirk. I nod deliriously, suddenly feeling light headed. I start seeing dark spots and seconds later, I pass out.


	2. Enduring the 70th Hunger Games

**Chapter Two: Enduring The 70th Hunger Games**

"What do you think of the tributes this year?" I ask him while waiting for the tributes on the train to the Capitol. I still hate him with all my being for being a drunken bastard who slashes innocent people's arms, but this is a rare time in which he is sober. For now, at least. He already has a flask of whiskey in his hand.

"I think they're going to die in a week, just like the rest of them." he says flatly. My eyes widen a little, taken aback by his bluntness.

"Don't say that so soon, we haven't even gotten to know what they can do yet! Maybe they can be District 12's new shining victor." I say, full of optimism. Surely, with the right escort and mentor, the kids from this district couldn't be that bad. _What a lie_, I hear a voice say in my head, _they suck and you know it_. I clear my throat and give Haymitch my best smile, shaking the voice from my thoughts.

"Princess, they're going down and you know it. Hell, most of the time they're already half dead by the time they're on the train." he says, taking a swig from his flask. I simply frown and slump down in my seat. Soon, the two tributes join us at the table. The boy walks in somberly, head down. I could see his tiny muscles underneath his torn, raggedy clothes. He has uneven brown hair and gray eyes. If I remember correctly, he's 13 years old. The girl is scrawny with the same features as the boy even though they're not related. She's 17. She looks around curiously, her face still puffy from crying.

"Hello, hello, hello, Mila and Guron!" I say as they sit down. Haymitch takes one look at them and starts drinking furiously, and I try my best to ignore him and his foul odor. It's easier said than done, though. They look at Haymitch helplessly.

"So, shall we discuss what your strengths in the arena will be?" I ask. I watch as both of them just look down, refusing to speak. Annoyed, I try asking again.

"I can forge fruit." the girl says so quietly I can barely hear her.

"Good, great start." I say, trying not to show my disappointment and hopelessness. I start tapping my heels underneath the desk, but stop when Haymitch grunts and shoves my feet with his to make me stop. I glance at him to see he's half way gone already, and that's no surprise at the rate he was chugging his alcohol down. _Haymitch is right_, I think. _How am I supposed to help them? This would make my life so much more simple if I had Career tributes._

"Yurs gun die," he slurs, slamming his flat hand on the table. The tributes stare at him wide eyed, completely scared. I stare at him wide eyed, too, not believing what he just said.

"Don't listen to him at all." I say, grabbing Haymitch's arm. I offer to walk him to his room and he pulls away from me, and I'm pretty sure he calls me a pink haired bitch. However, I grab him again, this time more forceful.

"You're going to your room, Haymitch." I say, and lucky for me, he actually gets up with my help. He wobbles when he walks and I call out a, "don't go anywhere, this dinner is not over!" over my shoulder to Mila and Guron has I help Haymitch get somewhat stable.

Getting to room, I open the door and walk him inside and to his bed, where he collapses face first. When I see he still has his nearly empty flask in his hand, I roll my eyes. I go to the nearest mirror I can find, which is of course cracked, and check my appearance. Straightening my outfit and wig, I make a note to put on perfume before joining the table again.

"Yur no goods as the restuvm." Haymitch says into his pillow, and I'm assuming that's to me. I roll my eyes. I turn to face him.  
>"Who are 'the rest of them', exactly? The Capitol? Yes, poor you, with all the fortune and <em>booze<em> you could dream of, they treat you so badly. Let's all hate the Capitol, for they have done so much wrong. Poor little Victor." I say with my hands on my hips, clearly mocking him. I think that even in his drunken state he catches my sarcasm because he starts punching the bed and goes on a rampage. I run out the door and lock it before he can hurt me, remembering the stitches on my arm. Composing myself down the hall, I hear him scream and then glass breaking.

"He'll be better in the morning." I say, trying to cheer myself up. But the truth is, I know he won't.


	3. Kids or Tributes?

**Chapter Three: Kids or Tributes?**

"Haymitch, c'mon, we've got to get off the train. I'm in no mood for this." I say to the currently hungover Quarter Quell Victor. I'm shaking him, but even then it takes him a few minutes to wake up. When he does, he moans. He rolls over on his back and I jump backwards when I see he has a knife in one hand. _How the hell did he get that?_ I wonder to myself, highly alarmed.

"Give me some Vodka, would ya, Princess?" he says groggily, not even noticing my startled reaction.

"No, and I'm most definitely not your 'Princess'. Now put a clean shirt on and I'll meet you outside." I tell him, eager to get out of his disgusting room. I'm beginning to think that everything Haymitch has, he destroys. I'm still deciding on whether or not he means to, though.

"Come back, Effie. I need your help." he says as I'm almost to the door. I spin on my heel to look at him, my hands on my hips. The noise my heels make makes him scrunch his face up in annoyance and I slightly smirk.

"Do you always have to wear such annoyingly high heels?" he asks, taking his dirty shirt off and throwing it on the ground. I roll my eyes and let out an aggravated noise.

"What do you need help with, Abernathy? Is it for something sexual? Because I am most decidedly not a whore." I say, expecting nothing better from him. Haymitch gives me a disgusted look, almost like I offended him, but I don't see how that could possibly offend him.

"Well, Princess," he says as I grind my teeth in anger, "I was going to ask you to get me a clean outfit. But since you seem to have a stick up your ass, I'll manage without one." he then bends down and grabs the dirty shirt, putting it back on. I make a disgusted noise. He's totally out of line by telling me I have a stick up my ass. Why? Because I don't. I just have no time for a slob with a hangover when we're on such a tight schedule.

"Meet me in the hotel in 30 minutes. I don't care if you have clean clothes or not, it's not like people are going to expect you to be well dressed. But, for my nose's sake, we'll get you some when we meet up."

"Cant," he says simply, getting up to put his simple shoes on. I wait a few seconds so he can elaborate, then hold my arms out in confusion when he doesn't. Was I supposed to just accept that? There's no way in hell.

"And why not?" I ask.

"I have some business I need to take care of now that we're in the Capitol." he says. _He's going to go to a bar_, I think to myself, t_hat's got to be it. It's not like he could have friends or even business partners._

"With who?" I'm sure I got him stumped with this question, because I'm sure he can't make up a believable lie while hungover.

"Plutarch Heavensbee." he says, and I stand there dumbfounded. I must look pretty shocked and confused, because Haymitch smiles at me before slipping out of his room. What business does he do with _Plutarch Heavensbee_? Determined to know, I slip out his room and run down the hall in my new heels, which I think to be an awful idea as soon as I turn the first corner. I glimpse a sight of him when I turn so I call out his name until he turns around. As soon as he sees me, he gives me a look that tells me he thinks I'm bothersome, but I continue running towards him.

"What business do you have with Plutarch Heavensbee?" I ask him, gasping for breath when I reach him. I was actually running pretty fast, even in heels. Plus, those hallways aren't exactly the shortest halls in Panem.

"Look, darlin', how about you mind your own business," he says gruffly, "and keep your voice down, or better yet, mouth shut about it." My mouth takes the shape of an 'O' as I think I realize what he's doing.

"Plutarch sells you alcohol, doesn't he? For a discount price or something? Or maybe you do a favor for him for alcohol in return?" I say in a low voice. Haymitch smirks arrogantly.

"You caught me. Now go take care of the kids, get them sponsors or something. Whatever it is you're useful for."

"You mean the tributes? They're already taken care of until we get to the hotel in 30 minutes." I say.

"They're kids, Effie. Not just tributes. Kids." he said in the most serious voice I've heard him speak in. I give him a confused look.

"Haymitch, surely you understand they're tributes first and foremost." I say, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which is pretty much is. He stares me down, and seems to take in my full appearance before speaking. He staring is more like glaring, which makes me confused and slightly scared, along with slightly intrigued. I start to feel self-conscious the more he glares, like I should hide my body. Strangely, deep down, an extremely small portion of me likes it. I decide to ignore that part as soon as I discover it, however.

"Make sure there's enough alcohol at the hotel. I don't do well with shortages." he finally says, and walks away from me in a grunt. I stand in the middle of the hallway, confused and intrigued. Deciding to just brush it off as Haymitch just being Haymitch, I walk down the hallway until I find a mirror. I check myself out in the mirror, making sure I look presentable and that my wig is perfect. When I see that it is, I smile to myself and continue walking to the train exit. I find it strange and slightly alarming when I start to wonder when's the next time I'll see Haymitch. Then I assure myself it's just because he's the Mentor and he's an important part of the Games, and not because of- oh _god_- any attachment whatsoever.


	4. Dealing with Innocent Deaths

**A/N: this is actually a kinda long chapter. I like it though. I'm not doing a day to day story, it's just going to be like little drabbles of their relationship as it progresses. So that's my reason for skipping the whole interview, training, etc. process and just going straight to the Games.**

**Chapter Four: Dealing with Innocent Deaths**

I clutch Haymitch's arm, digging my manicured nails into his skin. We're sitting on a couch, watching the first day of the Games. He doesn't seem to notice nor care, so I dig in harder, screaming at every blow a tribute makes.

"Show Mila and Guron already!" I scream at the TV, wanting to know how they did. I glance at Haymitch to see him chugging a bottle of Whiskey, not even bothering to look at the TV.

"They'll die soon enough, Princess." he says when the bottle is empty.

"Did you really just drink all that in one minute?" I say incredulously. He gives me a crooked grin. "You're already half way drunk and they're still at the Cornucopia!" Making an aggravated noise, I let go of his arm and get up to get him more alcohol. I've gotten used to his drunkenness over this years preparations for the Games enough to enable it just so I could do my work instead of dealing with him.

"She's dead!" Haymitch calls as I'm gathering different bottles of alcohol all at once, just so I won't have to get up later.

"What?" I yell, hurrying back with all the alcohol in my hands. Haymitch makes a "mmm" noise when he sees the bottles and I put them down on the table in front of the couch. I sit down quickly and look at the screen to see the Cornucopia battle has ended, leaving 7 tributes dead. One of them being the girl from 12. I sigh, knowing this would happen. I feel a tiny tinge of pain, and maybe that's because I knew her and how hopeless she was.

"The boy's still alive, though." I say proudly.

"For now!" Haymitch laughs, slapping his knee.

"Ugh, you're not funny." I tell him. Watching the screen, I hook Haymitch's drunk arm into mine again.

"Are you always so touchy?" Haymitch yells, trying to pull his arm away. I smile arrogantly and pat his arm with my other hand, not letting him pull away. I hear him grunt loudly and feel him trying to pull away again, so I reach for the remote to turn the TV up. It's currently on the Career pack, the tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4. The boy tribute from 4 is getting rather hot headed during an argument with the boy from 1, and it quickly turns into a fight. The fight lasts for about 10 minutes and I'm completely into it, then the boy from 1 beheads the boy from 4 swiftly. I gasp and squeeze Haymitch's arm with my other hand. By now, he's completely drunk and out of it. I turn my attention from Haymitch to the screen when I hear a piercing, bloodcurdling scream come from the TV. It's the girl tribute from 4, and she's losing it.

"She's dead meat!" I say to him, although I know he isn't listening. I watch as the girl scrambles away from the pack in hysterics, clawing at her face, and the pack starts throwing spears and knives in her direction. She manages to escape, though, and the camera shuts off to a boy from 3 and a girl from 5 fighting.

"Oh my word," I say with a hand over my heart, "this year's Games are so intense!"

"Kids dying's never nots 'tense," Haymitch slurs. I roll my eyes.

The next day, we meet back up in the same room as yesterday to watch the Games. I don't know why he comes back after yesterday, but he does and we sit on the same couch, me hooking arms with him again. I watch as Guron is killed slowly by the Career Pack, and I can't help but feel a little sad. I turn to Haymitch with a few tears in my eyes, seeing what his reaction is. Guron's screams are filling the room as I hear a girl's laughter. Haymitch refuses to look at the screen, instead drinking furiously. He unhooks his arm from mine and I don't bother taking it back.

"I've gotta go to the bathroom," Haymitch says as he gets up. I sigh.

"The brown door on the right." I tell him, but it's too late. Haymitch has already puked on the floor. The smell of it fills the air along with Guron's screams in the background and for a second, I see nothing but chaos. Then, I plug my nose with my fingers and go to the phone, sending cleaners. I instruct Haymitch to go get in the shower, but he just stands there with a confused look. While standing there he looks like a lost school boy and for a second I think it's adorable until I realize that it's really Haymitch Abernathy, and he is anything but adorable. I walk over to him and help him to the shower.

"Now, undress and clean yourself up." I say. He doesn't respond, just looks around the room with downcast eyes, and for a minute I'm pretty sure he's going to pass out. He doesn't, though, and I walk out the room as soon as he starts taking his shirt off.

I thank the cleaners as they leave 20 minutes later when I hear a bang come from the bathroom. I run to the bathroom door and yell at him.

"Haymitch! Are you alright in there?" There's no answer, not even a slurred one. "Haymitch? You better not have passed out in there, because I have no interest in seeing you naked." A blush creeps onto my face as I shake the mental image from my head. There's still no answer, so I pound on the door a few times. I start to get worried, because even though I dislike him greatly, I don't think I could handle him dying on _my _watch. I open the door slowly, to see he did just what I expected – he's passed out. I close my eyes and hurriedly turn off the water, then run out the room to get a towel. Coming back to the shower, I close my eyes again and screech when I put the towel down to cover his lower body.

"Haymitch!" I scream in anger. I am completely done with this man, he is the most disgusting and crude man in all of Panem. I don't deserve having to put up with him. I look at the position he's in and reason in my head that it's a good enough position to leave him in, just so I don't have to drag him to his room. Besides, if he's sore and bruised tomorrow when he wakes up from being in that position, I won't care.

"Hmmph." I say, walking out the bathroom and slamming the door behind me.

The next day, I decide to stay in my hotel room and watch the Games. Then, seeing as how my tributes are already dead, I decide to treat myself to a manicure and pedicure when things get boring. I absolutely refuse to watch the Games with Haymitch any longer. I take my time getting ready to go out, the Games on my TV in the background. I watch for 30 minutes, wondering how the girl tribute from 4 isn't dead yet. While watching, there's a knock on my door. I get up to go answer it, only wishing immediately that I hadn't.

"Princess, I don't appreciate getting stood up." I sigh and roll my eyes.

"When did I ever stand you up? There was no requirement saying I had to watch the Games with you, so why should I?" He doesn't seem to know what to say to that, so I put my hands on my hips. He stares me down, taking in my full appearance. My glitter pink wig, my seafoam green blazer and pencil skirt, my hot pink heels. This time, I won't stand here and be self-conscious. I stare him down right back, taking in his appearance as well. His 5 o'clock shadow, his simple white shirt and fitted jeans, his sneakers and disheveled hair. I decide that for an alcoholic, he's not bad looking.

"Do you mind?" I say, motioning for him to get out my doorway. He raises an eyebrow. He backs into the hallway and lets me pass him. I walk with my head high down the hallway towards the elevator. Pressing the button for it to go down, I turn around to see him standing there, watching me with his eyebrow still raised. He looks amused and unimpressed, but I don't let that phase me. I flash him an 'I'm better than you' smile and turn around. _Only a couple more days_, I tell myself, _then I won't have to deal with him for another year. _I might get lucky and be promoted, but I doubt it by the way my tributes performed this year. I walk into the elevator when the doors open and when I turn around, I see that he has already left without me noticing. A little part of me deep down is hurt, but the rest of me doesn't even care.


	5. Winner

**Chapter Five: Winner**

"Congratulations, Annie Cresta, you are the 70th Victor of the Hunger Games!" Shouted Caesar Flickerman. I watched the screen in awe, not believing a crazy girl beat out everyone else. The only thing on the screen was a birds eye view of the part of the arena Annie was at, but it was drowned in water. A tiny girl was swimming on top crazily, not even acknowledging that she had won. She just kept swimming and swimming, then the Games went off. Immediately, without even thinking, I get up from my chair, run out my door and down the hall to Haymitch's room. I bang on the door, yelling his name.

"Haymitch, the girl from 4 won! She's this years Victor!" I yelled excitedly, hoping he wasn't drunk. Suddenly, the door opens and I step back in my bright red heels, scared of knowing the state Haymitch was in. I looked at him and while he had a flask in his hand, he didn't seem drunk at all. He was wearing a clean, black shirt for once, with no stains, and dark wash jeans with no shoes. He leaned on his door frame with a cocked eyebrow as I cleared my throat and straightened my white dress out. I shouldn't have done this.

"Annie Cresta, district 4. She's this years winner." I said calmly. Haymitch's expression didn't change, and I feel his eyes bore into my face.

"Congratulations." Haymitch says, clearly unimpressed.

"You're not surprised? She went crazy and she still won!" I say, wanting an actual reaction out of him. I'm taken back by his answer.

"I am surprised. I'm surprised she got through the Games without killing anyone. Wish I could say the same." and he takes a swig from his flask. His answer perplexes me and I don't know how to feel about it. How did it feel to actually kill someone? On the TV, most of the tributes that do it make it look so easy, I had always assumed it was no big deal as long as you were strong enough. Did they feel guilty afterward? Did Haymitch still feel guilty about his killings, almost 25 years later? I look down, and I become all the more aware that I know nothing about Haymitch at all. Not that I want to, I remind myself.

"Cheer up, darlin'. Now you get to go to all the exclusive mentor and escort parties." he says, and it actually sounds like he's trying to cheer me up. While still being a smartass. I give him a smile and a sarcastic "thanks", then look down again.

"How did it feel to kill someone?" I ask, sounding like a little child. Okay, so maybe discussing this in the hallway wasn't proper etiquette, but I was curious, and curious and determination are my two best traits. Haymitch looks startled for a second, then takes another sip of whatever he's got in his flask.

"Don't drink right now, give me a sober answer." I say. He sighs and curses under his breath.

"Hell, Princess, I don't know. It's been too many years back."

"Yes you do. I know you know! Now tell me, because I wanna know. I didn't tell anyone about Plutarch and your alcohol deal with him, so clearly I can keep a secret." I put my hands on my hips for emphasis and hold my head high, proud that I've kept his secret. Haymitch smirks.

"Effie, I'll tell you sometime later. As for Plutarch, I was kidding. We have no, as you put it, alcohol deal." I furrow my eyebrows. He lied to me? Asshole. _What's new_, I think.

"Then what'd you have to see him for then?"

"I'll tell you later."

"I'm taking your word for you that you will. On both things." I say, full of determination. Haymitch scoffs, then breaks out into a slight laugh, and walks inside his room.

"Right, sweetheart. I'm sure you will." and closes the door. He sounds like he half-way believes me and is half-way mocking me. Suddenly I'm aggravated, and it's not because of his constant use of terms of endearment either. I really want to know. Since it's Haymitch Abernathy, though, I know I'll probably never get an answer. Asshole. At least I can now go to parties and be rid of him for a year.


	6. Working Together Again

**Chapter Six: Working Together Again**

"You know, I thought about you all night after you left yesterday." Petrius, a man I've been seeing, says. He was the stylist for District 1, and we met at one of the parties the Capitol had for the Victor of last years Games, Annie Cresta. I had to drag Haymitch along, but I didn't let him get in the way of mingling with everyone. He just drank himself away, anyways, along with talking to Plutarch some. When I first saw them talking, I scowled, wanting to know what they had going on. Then, one of my dearest friends introduced me to Petrius and we hit it off immediately.

"I thought about you too." I giggled into my earpiece. I was walking down the hallway of the same hotel we had last year, ready to get Haymitch so we could watch the Opening Ceremony. I disliked the idea of being with him again, especially since his only greeting to me this year was, "No promotion for the princess?" with a smirk I wanted to slap off.

"I've got to go, I need to handle Haymitch for a while. I'll see you in a few." I said in a flirty tone. I'm carrying a shoebox down the hallway, so I shift the weight of the box onto my other arm so I can open the door.

"Alright, babe. Wear your sexy black pumps to the Opening Ceremony after party. I love to see you in them." He says, and I giggle. I push a button on my earpiece, disconnecting the call as I open the door to Haymitch's room. He's sitting on the couch in a wife-beater, dark wash jeans and a pair of sneakers, bottle of Vodka in hand. It doesn't look like it's been opened, though. He's staring at nothing in particular, but he looks like he's going crazy. I scoff.

"Are those the only pair of pants you have?" I ask him, and he looks up at me with a smirk.

"Alcoholics don't have much time for shopping or fashion."

"Well at least you admit that you are one." I say as I sit down next to him. He smells awful, a mixture of vomit and booze, and it's strangely welcoming. I purse my lips and look at him.

"Change into an actual shirt so we can go. Gina wants us down in 10 minutes so we can tell her what we think of this year's costumes." I also want to see Petrius as fast as possible, but I neglect telling him that. He opens the bottle of Vodka and gets up to pour it into a flask. I look at him like he's stupid. _Did he not just hear me?_

"Shirt. Now!" I say, getting annoyed. He walks silently to go get a clean shirt, and I open the shoebox to reveal my black pumps. I smile as I'm taking off my red pumps. I'm wearing a white pencil skirt with a red ruffled in the front shirt. The shirt has no sleeves, making me cold, but that's the price you pay for beauty. I slip on the first shoe when Haymitch comes back in the room.

"What're you switching shoes for? Is it Capitol fashion to do that now?" he asks, standing in front of me. I make a face at him and slip the other one on.

"Petrius wants me to wear my black pumps with my outfit. He likes them." I say simply, getting up. We're now standing in front of each other, my arms crossed. He smirks.

"You're still seeing that nutjob?" he asks, highly amused. I "hmmph" and walk around the couch, breaking in the shoes a bit before we go. Heels hurt when you haven't worn them for a while, and I haven't worn these in about two months.

"He's not a nutjob! He just likes things to go his way." I say. Petrius does throw major fits of rage when people don't do what he says, or criticize his designs, or if someone he likes doesn't like him, but I wouldn't count that as a nutjob. He just knows what he wants.

"I know, that's why I'm surprised you're still with him. You do, too." Haymitch says with a laugh. I shoot him another look to find that he looks immensely amused with himself, so I just walk out of his door.

"Come on, Haymitch. 10 minutes are up." I yell, not even stopping as I walk down the hallway. I start to get worried he won't follow me, making us even more late, but I'm relieved when I hear his familiar grunt behind me. _Lets get this over with_.

* * *

><p>"Haymitch, I cannot believe you. You ruin everything for me!" I yell, doing my best to drag him out the elevator and down the hall to his room. He makes a gurgling noise and I scrunch up my face in disgust. Finally, I open his door and drag him inside.<p>

"I goinna be lone gin 'night?" he asks as he jerks away from me, falling face first on his floor. I lift up my hands, refusing to pick him up and drag him anymore. He ruined my new french tips, damn it. He's going to pay me for my manicure. My Mother has taught me since I was a little girl that a Trinket always prides herself on her nails and manners.

"What?" I ask him, not in the mood for his drunk mouth. Suddenly, Haymitch gets off the ground and I squeak, backing away from him. He wobbles to his end table and opens the only drawer, pulling out a knife. My eyes widen, and I start to fear for my safety in his presence. Again. I back up until my back is against his door, one hand on the door knob.

"Don let the dreams gimme." he mumbles, and walks over to his couch, where he collapses. I wait for a moment to see if he's actually passed out, then ease up when I realize that he is. I continute to look at him, wondering what he meant. Don't let the dreams get me? I reason in my head that it's probably just drunken nonsense, but I can't shake how scared Haymitch looked when he said it out my brain. I start to feel bad the more his scared expression flashes in my mind, but then I realize what he did to get here. The after party was moving along great, although I was getting plenty of giggles behind my back because of my District's outfits and lack of winners. Petrius and I danced a little, and mingled with the other attendees the rest of the night. I didn't see Haymitch at all until, of course, he was making a scene. He started shouting at random people, telling quite a few elite Capitol citizens what he thought of them. I cursed myself as well as him when I realized that I was going to have to leave the party to drag him to his room, because even security was having a laugh at him. Petrius looked completely embarrassed to be associated with me.

"I hate you." I spat at him, remembering the way Petrius looked. There was no doubt in my mind that we would be over soon, along with my chance of ever being in the Capitol elite. I winced when I thought of the phone call I would be getting from my Mother later, who always had high hopes I would marry into the rich and elite. I walked around his dirty room, looking for something to write with and something to write on. I finally found a pen by his bed and a paper towel from the kitchen. Pressing down on the fridge, I wrote Haymitch a note.

Haymitch -

you owe me a manicure.

you suck.

Always, Effie Trinket

I put the note on the end table and walked out, not letting any tears fall until I get back to my room. When I get to my room, however, I kick off my shoes and curl into my bed, crying the whole time. Everyone thinks I'm a joke, even the person who makes people think I'm a joke, Haymitch, thinks I'm a joke. I work my ass off, why was I never enough? I cry through out most of the night, then lull myself into sleep when I'm too tired to cry anymore.


	7. Coaching People to Die

**Chapter Seven: Coaching People to Die**

"Haymitch?" I say quietly, knocking on his hotel room door. "Haymitch, please open the door." This time I'm louder. I hear a clatter of bottles come from his room and then back up when he opens the door. He has no bottle in his hand and I try to remember the last time I've seen him like that, but I can't.

"What do you want?" He says gruffly.

"Both of our tributes died in the bloodbath." I say sadly, looking down.

"Were you expecting any different?" he asks me, putting one hand on the door frame. I sigh. Our tributes this year were a boy of 12, who had only turned 12 a few of months before the reaping, and a 14 year old girl. They weren't very promising, but I had gotten to know them seeing as how I was their escort and Haymitch was almost of no help. He didn't even bother looking for sponsors this year.

"I knew them, Haymitch. I saw them smile, joke around together, cry together, and it just hurts watching them die a few days later." I tell him. How does Haymitch do it, watching his tributes die year after year? He gives me a look that I can't read and mutters "shit" under his breath.

"How can you not be sad that they're dead? You've done it long enough, teach me how." I say, becoming determined to learn.

"Easy, don't talk to them. Life's better when you don't get attached." Haymitch says. Does he want me to end up like him? I scrunch up my face, lost in my thoughts about how horrible that would be.

"Princess, you get used to kids dying every year when you've been around it for as long as me." I frown, not liking his answer. Sometimes I wish I didn't have this job, but how else was I supposed to please my Mother? Besides, I was born to organize and present. What other job could I have in the Capitol that would let me do that other than be an escort? _Maybe it's different since there's lives at stake, _I think, and that's when it hits me.

"Haymitch, we coach people to die." I say, and start crying. He doesn't move, and when I look at him I see him giving me a look saying 'Well duh, I thought you knew that.' But I feel stupid because I didn't know that and I don't want anybody to die. I don't like people dying either but they are and we can't stop it, we can only help them try not to. My thoughts become jumbled and strings of run-on sentences as I hear Haymitch shift his weight, and I realize that while I'm crying quite loudly in the hallway he's probably feeling uncomfortable. I seem to be crying a lot lately, I note.

"Look, could you quit crying? It's getting annoying." he says, and I perk up. Wiping the tears in my eyes, I give him a mean look.

"You're supposed to say you're sorry when someone cries!" I yell at him, hitting his chest.

"Well I wasn't sorry, so I figured you'd want honesty instead." I shoot him another mean look and frown. _Of course he wouldn't be_.

"I'm going to my room, I need to be alone." I tell him between tiny sobs and I see him roll his eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Haymitch Abernathy! You ruin everything, the least you could do is care!" I scream, stomping my heel. He cocks an eyebrow, what he seemingly always does in my presence. One day I swear I'm going to shave them off.

"The least you could do for me is to try being a little less ridiculous. What do you say, sweetheart? Do we have a deal?" he says. I can't tell if he's mocking me or not, but I take it as an insult and stomp away. I hear his door slam when I'm almost at the end of the hall and I stop to scream in aggravation. I know I'm being completely unprofessional, but at the moment I can't bring myself to stop. I hear the door open again, and I turn around to see Haymitch standing in the hallway with a beer.

"Do you mind not screaming in the hallway, dear? Folks on this hall are trying to drink in peace, and your annoyingly high, peppy voice is preventing that from happening." he calls at me, smirking. I suddenly feel ashamed for the way I've completely lost my cool.

"No problem, Mr. Abernathy. I'm terribly sorry for the noise, it won't happen again." I say in my most professional voice, holding back my tears. I straighten out my blazer and pencil skirt and walk away with my lips pursed. I hate this place, I hate the drunk I have to work with, I hate how I don't have any friends since I've gotten this job and I hate how people die every year for no reason. I walk into my room and slam the door shut, not caring about how I'm acting now, since I'm alone. I haven't been in my room since this morning, but I stop in my tracks when I notice how it's messier than I left it. Did I do this? I try to remember this morning but I don't remember leaving it like this. Walking into my small hotel bedroom cautiously, I look on my bed. There's a pink envelope on my white bed that I don't remember ever seeing before. I walk over there and see 'Effie' in simple handwriting. I open it, nervous on what could be inside. I pull out a small note and a bundle of money. _Who could have left this? How'd they even get into my room?_ I read the note, hoping to find out.

Here's money for your nails, I didn't know you'd freak out so much about not getting it.

I know I suck, but what are you going to do about it, darling?

Haymitch

My eyes widen. I remember yelling at him a few days ago about how I had to pay for my manicure myself, since he never did what I demanded. I was sure he wasn't paying attention, though. I pick up the bundle of money and take it out of the rubber band it was in. I raise my eyebrows, realizing this is far beyond what a manicure would cost. I start counting the $100 bills and a tiny strip of paper falls onto the bed. I put the money down and pick it up to read it.

Thanks for putting up with me.

It has the same handwriting as before, only much more sloppy and lopsided. I sigh and suddenly hate myself for the way, deep down, a warmth passes through me. I throw the slip away from me, not liking the feeling. I finish counting the money and it comes out to $1200. _Well damn_, is all I can think,_ a manicure only costs $60_. Then I realize that he's rich for life, and must have no one to share or give his money to. I start to pity him, thinking of how lonely it must be, and realize I'm just as lonely as he is. I have no more friends, the Capitol elite think I'm a joke and my family is disappointed in me. In the back of my mind I notice the parallels between Haymitch and I, and I try to erase the thought from my brain, but I can't. I put everything back in the envelope, even the strip of paper I threw that gives me a wave of warmth, and put the envelope on my bedside table. I kick off my shoes and curl up in my bed, all the while wondering what Haymitch's family thought of him, or if they even spoke to him at all. Does he even have one? I start to drift into sleep, my last thought being that I would much rather have a family that's disappointed in me than not one at all.


	8. That Secret Golden Bracelet

**A/N: I don't feel too great about this chapter, but I hope you enjoy anyways!**

**Chapter Eight: That Secret Golden Bracelet**

Sitting in my room on the train, I start humming to ease the boredom. There were a few hours left until we had dinner and I could get to know my tributes better. I've come back this year with a new attitude, which I found to be necessary for my happiness and because of the way I was a mess last year. The Capitol elite laughs at me and my district? I don't care, I'll laugh at them when I work my hardest and get promoted. I don't care what anyone thinks anymore, I'm working hard to be successful for myself only. I'm not letting Haymitch get me down, either. Well, at least I'm going to try to not let Haymitch get me down. One thing I've realized over the past year is that he's very smart, and knows exactly what to say to manipulate my feelings into doing what he wants them to. I'm hoping that with my new attitude, that will change. Speaking of the devil, I'm interrupted from my thoughts when Haymitch walks into my room.

"Keep this safe and well hidden, because you're not getting another one. Put this on immediately if I tell you to." he says, tossing a tiny box on my bed. It's dark green and about the size of a bracelet box, and I walk over to my bed to open it. I give him a confused look when I see that it's a tiny, golden bracelet.

"Why?" I ask. I decide to go with the easiest question to ask first, but there's plenty of questions in my head.

"Because I said so. I mean it, Princess. Hide it well and don't wear it unless I tell you." I eye him curiously. Why would I have to hide a simple bracelet like this? Why was he even giving me this? Why couldn't I wear it whenever I wanted?

"That's all I'm going to get? Haymitch, you are not going to barge into my room, demanding I hide a silly little bracelet without telling me why. I have an outfit this would be perfect with! Why shouldn't I wear it if you're giving it to me?" I say, holding my head up high. He rubs his forehead, and I catch the faintest glimpse of amusement amongst his annoyance.

"Do you have to be so difficult?" he asks, annoyed. I give him a look and he smirks.

"I'll tell you later." he says. I glare at him when he speaks those words, knowing he will not, in fact, tell me later.

"You say that to me about everything, Haymitch. I don't even believe you anymore." I say in a low voice, trying to sound threatening, and I throw the box on the bed. I walk over to him, hands on my hips, and stare him down. Even with my heels he's taller than me, and I note that he doesn't smell of alcohol at all. I'm so shocked that for a second, I forget what we're even talking about. He smells like fabric cleaner. His smirk still hasn't left, even as I'm staring him down.

"Princess, you don't scare me." he sounds amused.

"What did I say about calling me Princess?" I ask, although in some strange way I've grown attached to his most common nickname for me.

"Getting you that bracelet wasn't easy, Effie. Don't screw this up." He's serious now, and is staring me down too. I'm too taken back by him using my name to realize he didn't answer my question. I take in his appearance: he's the most dressed up I've ever seen him, wearing a dark blue dress shirt and black pants with black dress shoes. He still has a 5 o'clock shadow and disheveled hair, though. A smile plays on his lips and incredibly, I find one playing on my lips too.

"Why are you so clean?" I ask. His face gets serious again and he scratches the back of his head.

"I had a meeting with Plutarch. It was necessary." he explains.

"You should clean up more. You look nice." I tease, but I'm not lying. He glares at me and I smile. "It's a compliment, Haymitch. Say thank you." To this, he grunts.

"Will you be drunk for the dinner?" I ask him, as if that was a casual question to ask. It is, for him. He eyes me as he rolls up his sleeves.

"You'll know when we get there." he says and I frown. That probably means yes. I don't see what's so hard about giving me a straight answer about these things.

"Why don't you try being sober?" I ask.

"Why don't you try having nightmares every night?" He says angrily, and I don't understand what he means. My face must show that because he sighs and walks out the door too fast for me to stop him. I don't know what to do with myself, so I sit down on my bed and think about him and what just happened. Fiddling with the tiny green box, I realize that I shouldn't spend so much time worrying about him. _But I still do_, I think.


	9. Not Any Different Than the Rest

**Chapter 9: Not Any Different From the Rest**

"Haymitch. Come _**on**_." I say, stomping my neon green heels. I've waiting for Haymitch for about an hour now so we could get on the train. Another year had gone by, two more of my tributes have died, and I was determined that this year they weren't. The 73rd Hunger Games were going to be different.

"Wait for me!" a slurred voice yells, and I start looking around for him. I turn around, not seeing at all, and nearly jump out of my neon pink pencil skirt when I turn back around to see him in front of me. He's using the walls for support, and I slap his chest.

"You were off getting drunk while I stood here waiting for you in the hallway for an hour? How dare you! We have a train to catch!" I scream. He gives me a confused look which only makes me even more mad.

"Have you forgotten? We catch a train to District 12 today, for the Reaping." I say through gritted teeth. _Stay cool, Effie_. I get a grunt for a reply. He then pushes past me and continues walking down the hallway, tripping when he opens the exit door. I scoff, half amused and half fed up, and follow behind him. I put a hand on his back to keep him steady and push him until we reach the train entrance, when an Avox takes it from there.

* * *

><p>On the train ride back to the Capitol, I feel like I'm going to be sick. The two tributes are digging their hands into all their food, cramming it into their mouth. I can barely watch, so I mainly stare at Haymitch, who I forced to join us. He doesn't seem at all affected or surprised by their behavior, which makes me wonder what type of manners everyone in that district has. Have they never seen food before? I scoff, unable to imagine it.<p>

"What's your problem, Princess?" Haymitch asks me, "Can't handle getting a little dirty?"

"They eat like animals!" I say in disbelief, making Haymitch smirk as he takes a sip of his vodka. The urge to hit him is almost as strong as my urge to kiss him. Wait, kiss him? _Haymitch_? Becoming frantically worried about this strange urge, I sniff my red wine to make sure it's not spiked with anything, and then study it to make sure I haven't drank too much.

"What are you doing?" the boy tribute, Yiles, asks me. I jump, forgetting there were people around me. When I look at him, I find that the girl is giving me a weird look too.

"Oh! Nothing at all, just examining my wine." I say, forcing a pleasant smile.

"Can I have some?" the girl asks. I stare at her, not believing she just asked me that.

"Of course not!" I say. Haymitch slaps his knee and starts laughing, almost choking on the sips of vodka he takes between his laughter. For a few seconds I keep my eyes focused on him, wondering how drunk he is right now, but turn away suddenly when I think about how I just had the urge to kiss him moments before. I can tell I'm blushing, but I talk to the two tributes like I'm not.

"Is that your real hair?" the girl asks again, and I laugh politely.

"It's a wig. Surely you've seen them before." they both nod.

"On TV, for the Games!" the boy shouts excitedly. I give him a strange look, wondering why he's so excited to be talking about a wig.

"Well that's what I have." I pat my head lightly and smile. There's a loud thud and the table rattles, and I look to Haymitch, who's now passed out face first into his soup. The bowl is cracked, as is the plate right beside the bowl. All three of us continue to stare at him, not knowing what to do. I feel childish for wondering, but could he drown? I decide not to chance it and walk over to him, lifting his head out of the bowl. His forehead is bleeding from the cuts the bowl gave him when it cracked, and I gasp.

"Yiles, Paj, we can discuss strategy later. Right now, your mentor needs to clean himself up." I say, forcing another smile. They both nod, and after taking handfuls of food, they walk out of the compartment. I sigh, letting Haymitch rest on the palm of my hand as I decide what to do. _This is already a catastrophic start to the Games_, I think, and I realize that this year won't be any different from the rest.


	10. Effie's Birthday

**Chapter 10: Effie's Birthday**

The Games started about two days ago, but Paj and Yiles were already dead. Paj died at the bloodbath, but Yiles died the next day. The girl from District 6 told him she wanted to form an alliance with him, but as soon as he fell asleep he was killed. On a whim I invited Haymitch to watch the rest of the Games with me in my room, and imagine my surprise when he agreed. The TV was on as I was in my closet, picking out an outfit to wear to my birthday dinner tonight, and Haymitch was sitting in a chair with a desk in front of him.

"What is your view on mint green?" I asked him.

"I think it's out this season, Princess." he said with heavy sarcasm. I rolled my eyes, knowing I shouldn't have asked him.

"Damn it!"

"What's wrong?" I asked, sifting through clothes.

"These damn cards gave me a paper cut." he said, and I giggled. Upon him agreeing to watch the Games with me, I told him no alcohol was permitted in my room. To keep him occupied since he couldn't drink, I was making him sort my birthday cards in alphabetical and color order. So far I only had a little over 100 cards, but it was only midday, so I kept my spirits up. It's a complete disgrace to get anything less than 150 birthday cards in the Capitol.

"What good is it, giving people _paper_ on their birthday?" he asked.

"It's the proper thing to do, Haymitch. You would know that if you had a proper bone in your body." I tell him while pulling out a short, dark green dress with dark red sequins on it. As I walk over to the him, we hear a cannon. My head snaps to the screen, seeing it was the girl from 6. I can't help but feel slightly triumphant, knowing that the girl who killed Yiles won't win.

"I'm wearing this, with my dark green wig and heels." I tell him. He looks up from the pile of cards and scrunches up his face when he sees my dress.

"You don't like it?" I ask, more disappointed than I should have been. The fact that we're alone in my room hasn't left my mind all day, and whenever I think about how easy it would be to kiss him, I mentally slap myself.

"It's from the Capitol." he says, going back to sorting the cards. I give an annoyed sound.

"So?" I say, going to find my dark green wig and heels. He doesn't give me an answer. When I find my wig and heels, I put them on my bed, along with the dress. When I turn around to shut my closet door, I see Haymitch staring at me. My stomach does a flip, and I don't know what to do, so I put my hands on my hips.

"What?" I say awkwardly. He cocks his eyebrow, then smirks.

"I'm going. Plutarch and I have a meeting." he says, standing up. I nod, and force myself to look at him, even though I want to look at the floor. It's only after he's gone do I realize that he didn't even acknowledge my birthday.

* * *

><p>After my dinner, I walk to my room, feeling exhausted. Walking further to my room, I see Haymitch standing by my door. I want to punch my stomach for all the flips it's doing, but instead I keep my head held high and walk up to him.<p>

"Haymitch, I'm tired. I'll deal with you tomorrow." I say, pushing him out the way of the door. He doesn't fight back and I open my door, but his voice stops me from walking inside.

"Here, happy birthday. I saw it and figured you'd like it." he hands out a black shoe box, which confuses me, since the box is for a men's shoe store.

"You got me men's shoes?" I say, taking the box. He scoffs.

"Look inside, Princess. The box was the only thing I had to put it in." I give a simple "oh." and open the box. Inside is the most gorgeous necklace I've ever seen. The necklace was light pink diamonds, and four of the diamonds have the letters 'E F F I E' in the center. I gasp, and I can't believe Haymitch would give something like this to me. This is so out of his character, I want to ask why, but the beauty of the necklace leaves me speechless. I look up at him, mouth still wide open. He looks uncomfortable, and shoves his hands in his pockets with a grunt.

"I got your name on it, because the lady told me that was the style or whatever. She also told me to give you flowers, so I did, but I spilled liquor on them earlier and accidentally let them die. They were ugly anyways, and smelled bad." he said, and I could hear a hint of nervousness in his voice. I started smiling so hard my cheeks started hurting, to which he cocked his eyebrow at me.

"Haymitch, this is the most wonderful present in the world!" I say, and hug him tightly. He smells of alcohol, dirty clothes and there's also a slight hint of vomit, but I don't let go.

"Don't hug me too hard, Princess, or you're going to drop the thing, and like hell I'm getting you another one." he says, and I let go, realizing he's right. I also realize that I'm blushing so much my whole face must be as red as my sequins, and I wonder if he notices. That strange urge arises in me again, only it's much stronger now. Still, I resist it and swat it out of my brain, and tell him that I'm even more exhausted now than I was.

"Then go to bed." he says, as if I was too stupid to think of that before. I huff, and the moment of him being nice to me is gone forever.

"I was going to, ass." I say, walking into my room. He makes an annoyed sound and I tell him goodnight, to which he doesn't even say it back. Instead, he starts walking down the hall with his hands in his pockets. I huff again and close the door, already smiling again as I go to put the necklace in my jewelry box.


	11. The Games That Changed Everything

**Chapter 11: The Games that Changed Everything**

Every nerve of mine is on end as I listen to the two men talk. I have no idea what they are talking about, so I haven't said anything since the meeting started.

"What all did Plutarch say?" Haymitch asks our new stylist, Cinna.

"He said that special help was needed, that only I could offer. So of course I took the job. Anything to help the cause." Cinna said. Haymitch nodded and motioned to me.

"I'm assuming you know of Effie Trinket." Cinna nods and smiles, reaching out to shake my hand. I smile and shake it. He comments on how pretty he thinks I am, and I blush.

"Trust me, the more you work with her the more annoying she gets." Haymitch says, to which Cinna laughs. I'm a little more hurt by his comment than I should be, but I shake it off. I realize it's just Haymitch being Haymitch.

"I think that's the case with everyone for you, Haymitch." Cinna adds, giving me a reassuring smile. I agree in my head. "Now, let's get down to business. I want to set Peeta and Katniss on fire." I give him a strange look, but Haymitch's expression doesn't change from the serious one he's had the whole time.

"Connection?"

"District 12 produces coal, coal is used to light fires."

"Consequences?"

"I'll force the Capitol to recognize the District everyone forgets." Haymitch nods and motions for Cinna to give him his sketch book to look at. I contemplate looking at the designs, but I figure it's time for me to speak up.

"So Cinna, when you mean set them on fire, do you mean–"

"I mean set them on fire." I raise my eyebrows, making Cinna laugh.

"It sounds far fetched, but trust me, I know what I'm doing. They'll be fine, and everyone will love them." he tells me calmly. His demeanor and tone of voice makes it easy to believe him, but the look in his eyes makes me slightly nervous. I smile politely and poke Haymitch's arm, and without a word he slides the book into my lap, not taking his eyes off the designs. Looking over them, I'm quite impressed, and I give Cinna nothing but compliments the whole time I'm looking through the book. He takes them graciously, and Haymitch gives him advice on the two tributes, but more on Katniss than Peeta.

"I think this is exactly what 12 needs. It'll put us up there with the Careers, maybe even past them if the vision I have in my head of the designs come to life. I have nothing but faith in you, Cinna." I say warmly. He thanks me as Haymitch and I get up to leave.

"You better not screw this up, kid." Haymitch tells him. I roll my eyes and tell Cinna not to worry about Haymitch, but before I can finish talking, Haymitch grabs my arm lightly and drags me out.

"Haymitch Abernathy, never do that ever again!" I shout, slapping his chest. He smirks, but whe he looks down at me his face grows serious.

"Effie, do you still have that golden bracelet I gave to you?" he asks.

"Yes." I say simply, after thinking about where I last put it.

"When I tell you to put it on, put it on without hesitation. Also, don't ask any annoying questions about it." he says, and I pout.

"Why?" I ask, mostly because I want to know, but partially just to annoy him. It works, and he gives me an annoyed look. He grabs my arm again, this time more rough, and leads me down the hallway of our hotel until we reach a dead end, to which he corners me and puts his mouth up to one of my ears.

"Do you know why we just had that meeting with Cinna, Princess? Or why I meet up with Plutarch?" he says angrily, talking so fast I have trouble understanding him. I squeak out a no.

"There's an underground rebellion going on, sweetie, and one of these kids is going to start it." I gasp, and he puts his hand over my mouth. I hit his hand until he lets it off my mouth, then I start talking.

"Why? Why am I involved with this? What if I don't want to? Do Katniss and Peeta even know about it?" I ask, my mind racing. Rebelling against the Capitol? Why would anyone want to do that? The Capitol is too strong anyways, anyone who takes part in this would surely be killed. Why bring two tributes who already have to fight to the death into this, or me, an innocent Capitol citizen?

"Shut your mouth, Effie. I'll tell you later." he growls. When he says that, I get angry. How many times has he told me he would tell me later?

"I want to know now, because you never tell me later." I tell him.

"No. Now shut up." he says. Then, someone comes down the hall. They're talking to another person, and I can tell by their speaking that they're from the Capitol. I suddenly get scared that they heard us, that they're going to kill us and take us away, but all of my worrying goes away when Haymitch places his lips on mine. It's so sudden that my eyes grow wide and my mind goes blank. Two of Haymitch's fingers reach up and push my eyelids down just as the people see us.

"Awww, how cute." one of the people, a girl, says as she opens her door. I'm kissing Haymitch back now, his hands on my hips and my hands on his chest. I taste the alcohol on his breath as I deepen the kiss. The other person, who sounds like a girl also, agrees and they close the door behind them. As soon as they close the door, Haymitch pulls away. I instantly get sad, because I was starting to really enjoy the kiss.

"What was that?" I say incredulously. He doesn't even look phased with what took place, while I can't get it out of my brain.

"I had to improvise, Princess. There were people coming." he said with a shrug. I'm speechless, and also hurt. Did that really just happen? Why did I like it so much? Why does it hurt to know it was just so people wouldn't think we were suspicious? Amongst my inner turmoil, I hear Haymitch's voice calling me back to reality.

"I'll explain everything later. Just not now."

"And what if I don't want to?" I say, knowing he knows exactly what I mean by that.

"Then we'll have to kill you." he says, and starts walking away. I don't hear any type of playfulness in his voice, so my nerves grow cold. Would he really? _He has killed before_, I think. _Well he didn't really have a choice_, I reason. I touch my lips, millions of questions forming in my mind. I guess the only option I have now is to go on like nothing's wrong until later comes, something I do not want to do in the slightest.


	12. Shocking Numbers

**Chapter 12: Shocking Numbers**

"Are you ready?" I ask a grumpy Haymitch, clutching my clipboard. He shoots me a glare and I look down at my red heels, getting the message to be quiet. Silently, we walk down the hallway and into the room where the kids' prep teams are waiting for us. When we walk in, the noise of my heels clacking on the floor still the only noise. The silence is unnerving, and I can understand why.

Today is the first day of the 74th Hunger Games, and little do Katniss and Peeta know, but a lot of planning relies on them. Both of their prep teams, with the absence of Cinna and Portia who are sending the them off, are anxiously watching the TV screen, which is playing a small recap of the scores, interviews, and reapings of every tribute. I glance at Haymitch and see he has buried his head into his hands, no doubt in deep thought. I purse my lips as I think of what to do.

Deciding to make myself useful, I run through the list of sponsors we have on the clipboard in my hand. We've never had more than 1 or 2 sponsors, and those were only out of pity, but this year there are a full 3 pages of them, front and back. Next to each name is an amount of money, representing how much money that person was willing to give. Most sponsors list a specific tribute to give their money to, and not surprisingly, Katniss is the favorite. On a spare sheet of paper, I add up the total amount we have to spend on each, on Peeta alone, and Katniss alone. The numbers shock me.

Katniss alone: $10,450.

Peeta alone: $7,368.

Sponsors who didn't specify: $9,942.

"Haymitch." I say seriously, my eyes wide. I put my hand on his knee, and only then does he lift his head.

"What do you want?"

"Look at these numbers." I say, giving him the clipboard with my other hand. Still clutching his knee, I turn to him and study his expression. I wonder what his reaction will be?

"What is this?" Haymitch asks, squinting at my calculations. I hear people come up behind me, and someone places their hand on my shoulder. With a quick glance, I realize it's Octavia.

"The first is the money we can use on Katniss, and Katniss alone. The second one, we can only use on Peeta. The third is the amount of money we were given all together by sponsors who didn't specify on which of the two to give it to." I say, and almost immediately I see Haymitch's eyes get focused and calculating. His eyes go over the amounts, again and again, so much that I think I crave to know what's going on in his head.

"How much money is it?" a voice asks from behind me. Without looking up, Haymitch replies.

"Enough." I hear a grunt from three different people, and I jump in to specify.

"Katniss gets approximately ten thousand dollars alone. Peeta is close behind with approximately seven thousand. As for the sponsors who didn't specify, it's approximately nine thousand." Octavia's hand grips my shoulder pad as someone lets out a tiny gasp.

"I'm going to need to discuss strategy with Effie for a moment." Haymitch announces, and to the prep team's everlasting obliviousness, everybody just blinks.

"Alone." Haymitch says, annoyed. "Everybody out. Now. Or I'll kick you out." Octavia releases her hold on me as I release my hold on Haymitch. As soon as they shut the door, Haymitch jumps right to the chase.

"Listen, and listen fast, Princess. Are you aware of the strategy Peeta and I have?" I stumble for words, taken aback at his blunt questioning.

"I think so. It's to keep Katniss alive, isn't it?" I finally manage to give out. Haymitch nods slightly and runs his hands through his hair, staring at the ground.

"Good." I watch him anxiously. "We only have about 30 more minutes and the Games begin. When they do, I need everybody on the same plan."

"Which is?" I interject, and he gives me a quick look of annoyance. "I'm not going to go along with this blindly! I'm in charge here, whether you're sober or not."  
>"Princess, I don't have time for your need to be in charge, those kids' lives are at stake. So do what I say and shut up." he says, and although I don't hate it, I do what I'm told. I figure it's what's best.<p>

"Peeta's going to join the Careers when the Games start–"

"Peeta has no business being with the Careers!" he gives me another look of annoyance, and I look at the ground.

"He's going to try to deter them away from Katniss. She has a high score and is popular with the crowd, so they'll want to take her out. That will by Katniss time for her to do exactly what I told her to do and get settled, and she knows what that is."

"But I thought they were supposed to play up a romance?" I ask, and Haymitch nods a few times while running his hands through his hair again. There's silence for a moment as Haymitch goes deep into thought.

"They're bound to find each other. It's just a matter of how Katniss acts when they do." I purse my lips, and I can't help but feel more worry than I have all my life.

"I'm scared." I say, looking at the ground.

"Yeah?" Haymitch says, getting up to open the door and motion for the prep teams to come back in. "Imagine how they feel. They're about to put all their effort into not dying."

Without any other word from anyone in the room, we all keep ourselves busy with whatever suits us until the Games start. The Capitol seal is presented on the screen, followed by the Anthem. Then, a birds eye view of the arena pops on the screen. Haymitch sighs, and I know he must be relieved with the arena. For all intent and purposes, it seems the ideal place. There's no snow, no desert, no extremely high mountain, no beach, and most importantly, it's spacious.

"Cinna and Portia should be arriving soon. Remember what I told you." Haymitch says in a low voice, and I nod. Underground plates reveal the tributes one by one, and Katniss comes up last. They do a close up of every tribute on the screen. All too soon, the minute they have to steady themselves is up, and everybody takes off running. As soon as they do, Cinna and Portia enter. I tear myself away from the screen to look at them as I hear Haymitch swear under his breath.

"Cinna, Portia, welcome. I imagine Katniss and Peeta were all ready to go?" I say happily, and Cinna peaks over my shoulder to the TV as he smiles. Portia, with tears in her eyes, smiles also.

"Let's discuss the plan somewhere more quiet, shall we?" I say, leading them out the door and into the hallway. Before closing the door behind me, I get a quick glance of Haymitch intensely watching the screen.

"He's more focused on this years Games than any other year I've worked with him." I say smiling, trying to start off lightly.

"He has more reason to be," Cinna says with a smile, "There's a lot more on the line." Portia nods.

After telling them both the plan Haymitch set for Katniss and Peeta as quickly as possible, we all go back into the room to watch with everyone else.

"How did they do?" I ask Haymitch quietly, not even hesitating to clasp my hand over his as cross my legs. I'm a touchy person, I admit, but I enjoyed touching Haymitch far more than a woman of my standards should. I especially love it when he doesn't pull away. I figured that was a secret I could only trust with myself.

"Well, they didn't die. That's all we can ask for right now." he answers, and I agree with him. Clutching his warm hand, we continue to watch the Games in silence. I say a tiny wish for Katniss and Peeta in my head.


	13. Rule Change

**Chapter 13: Rule Change**

"Haymitch!" I screamed, stomping down the hallway in my heels, clipboard in hand. Opening the door, I stood in the door way, slouching my shoulders. I was tired, and I hated feeling so helpless. So not in charge of what's going on. Maybe Haymitch was right when he said I had a bossiness problem.

"Help him. Please!" I said, just as helpless as I felt. "I'm begging you. He's going to die." I choked out that last word. I looked around the occupied room. Cinna, Portia, the two prep teams, and Haymitch were all there.

"He's not supposed to live, Princess. Katniss is. It's her we all agreed on to save." Haymitch said, calm and collected. I raised my clipboard in the air with one hand and waved it around.

"What's this for then? Seven thousand dollars and not a single penny of it has been used yet! We can buy him medicine, Haymitch. Please. Think about Katniss." I said, yelling at first but then becoming soft.

"I am thinking about Katniss, woman! What the hell do you think I've been doing since the Games have started, just sitting here?" he yelled.

"Why won't you help him then? She needs him to stay alive! What about them meeting up again? What if he dies? She's going to see it, and she's going to be helpless. That little girl has already died on her!" I screamed.

"I'm going to have to agree with Effie, Haymitch." Portia said. I had completely forgot anybody else was even in the room. Portia looked at Cinna for encouragement, but he remained still.

"Say we send him the medicine. Say he gets better. What then? What skills does he have to use, what weapon?" Haymitch asks me.

"We could send him one! We could send him food, and weapons, and you know the first thing he'll do is go find Katniss."

"Then what?" Haymitch asks, and I'm lost for an answer. "I'm trying to keep her out of the situation of them two being the only 2 left alive. It's obvious the boy would die for her, he technically already is. But I'll be damned if Katniss ever has enough strength to kill him. Sure, he could commit suicide, if you want to scar the damn girl even more. _Think_, Effie!" Haymitch yells. Tears well up in my eyes. The realization becomes more and more apparent every day that not both of them are going to live. It has her only be her.

"Haymitch is right, Effie. Katniss is very strong, but don't make her go through the torture of being the only two left. To let nature take its course would be a very kind thing for you to do for her. He made her look valuable to sponsors, and now we have a lot of money to work with. It's best not to cry for things we can't change." Cinna said in a extremely calm, soothing voice. I put my hand over my mouth and start crying anyways, because I can't help it.

"Can't we at least send him food so he can eat comfortably for his last meals?" I ask between sobs. Haymitch considers this for an instant, then grunts.

"Eh, best to let the boy think we ignored him. It's easier that way. Why send food and not medicine?" Haymitch strokes his 5 o'clock shadow. I move over to sit by Haymitch, still crying. I don't cry for myself, but I do cry for them. I cry for Peeta and his hopeless situation. I cry for Katniss and the sorrow she will feel when he goes, and also the relief she will feel when she knows that she won't have to kill him herself. I cry for the fact that they're even in this situation, and while doing so, I come to realize just how horrible the Games truly are. I realize now why Plutarch talks about how important it is that we end this in the secret meetings Haymitch sometimes bothers me to attend. It isn't fair in the slightest. Why do they have to die?

While the Games continue I pay no attention, silently crying into my hands. I must look like a shameful fool right now, but it's just so sad, I have to cry. _Somebody_ has to cry for them. While doing so, I feel a hand on the small of my back. I can barely feel it there, it's so lightly placed against me, but I know by the warmth that it is, in fact, there. I don't think about who it could be – it's not of importance right now. I just know that it gives me comfort, and I continue to cry as if I haven't noticed it.

A good 10 minutes later, I lean up to dry my eyes and actually watch the Games. When I straighten up, I feel the light pressure go away. Instinctively, I look to my left to see Haymitch with both hands clasped together, fumbling with his thumbs. He keeps his focus on the Games, and I become eternally grateful for that as I realize the only person that hand could have belonged to. My face gets hot and I pray that people think it's only because of my tears. How strange is it that sometimes I can get so close to Haymitch naturally, such as holding on to him while watching the Games, yet at other times the slightest touch from him makes me a nervous wreck? I reason that it's only when he initiates the contact, and that he's just a horrible people person. I also reason that this was a matter that I should not waste time thinking about.

"Effie." Haymitch says seriously. I look at him cautiously, then move my eyes to the screen. On the screen is a picture of Seneca Crane, with the blinking words "NEW RULE ADDED BY HEAD GAMEMAKER" underneath it. I grip Haymitch's knee as confusion fills me. Cinna even stands up, not able to take the anticipation. Portia is sitting wide-eyed, as well as the prep teams. Gasps from them fill the room. Suddenly, the TV cuts to a press conference with Seneca Crane speaking. He goes on about laws and regulations, about getting President Snow's consent, when finally he drops the bomb: two tributes can win this year if they're from the same district. I scream, shaking and crying again as I realize what this means. Cinna breaks out into a grand smile and claps a few times before Portia pulls him into a hug. Haymitch sits there silently, still fumbling with his thumbs. He glares at the TV, and I can't figure out why.

"Haymitch!" I scream in delight, pulling him into a hug. He pats my back twice and I squeeze tighter.

"They're going to want to interview us! All of us!" I say as I pull away. "Should you two design our outfits so we coordinate, or should we just wear what we have?" I ask Cinna.

"I think Portia and I can come up with something in time. It'll have to go with the Girl On Fire theme, though."

"That's perfect!" I shout, and Portia pulls me into a tight hug. After she pulls away, I look behind me to see that Haymitch has sat back down, emotionless.

"Aren't you happy?" I ask. He also catches the eye of Cinna, but Portia is too busy celebrating with the prep teams to notice. Haymitch doesn't answer.

"Tell us what you know, Haymitch." Cinna says calmly, like a teacher encouraging their pupil to share with the class. Cinna's grand smile has turned into a studious frown, and I look between the two men.

"Should I be worried?" I ask. Actual panic starts to seep in, and I sit down next to Haymitch and clutch his clasped again hands. "Tell me if I should be worried. Tell. Us." I'm urging him to say anything now, and he just stares at me with a strange look. I realize that the strange look I'm looking at is actually sadness, I had just never seen it so openly shown on his face before. I have a strong urge to cup his cheek, but I resist.

"Our worst fears just got realized, Princess." he finally says angrily, though the look doesn't leave him.

"What do you mean?" Cinna asks.

"Do you really think Snow would let two tributes win?" he asks, and I consider what he said. Would he? Well, Seneca Crane said he would and will, and why would he lie?

"No, he wouldn't." Cinna says after a moment, sadness in his voice. Cinna sits on the other side of Haymitch, a sick look in his eyes. They seemed to have reached some conclusion that I haven't.

"Of course he would, Seneca Crane said so." I assure them, squeezing Haymitch's hands with mine.

"No, Princess. He wouldn't. He's going to let them think that until they're the only two left. Imagine the buzz this year's Games will get when the two star-crossed lovers from District Twelve, in a tragic rule change, will have to fight to the death."

"It's sickening." Cinna adds. My eyes widen. No, they wouldn't do that. They couldn't! Why would they? Then I realize.. why wouldn't they? They already sent them to fight to the death for no reason, so why couldn't they do this, too?

"This is horrible!" I cry, and bury my face into Haymitch's shoulder. Cinna rubs my back as I cry.

"You've been through too much today, Effie. Why don't I walk you to your room so you can rest your nerves? I can break the news to the others, and I'm sure Haymitch will fill you in on anything that happens." Cinna says, and I nod into Haymitch's shoulder.

"Alright, Princess. Get up before you soak my whole damn shirt. I've seen you cry enough today." Haymitch says, shrugging his shoulder when I don't move on my own. Just then, we hear Claudius Templesmith talking on the TV. The room falls silent as he reads Seneca Crane's rule change. I whip my head around to watch the screen. As soon as he's done talking, a familiar voice comes from the screen in the form of a scream.

"PEETA!" I form chills as Katniss screams his name. Turning back to Cinna and Haymitch, I see Cinna nod. They somehow have communicated without speaking. Cinna gently grabs my arm and hooks it with his, leading me out the room. We politely discuss fashion options on the way there, and I'm eternally grateful for him trying not to make the conversation too heavy, even though we both know what is on each other's minds.

"Rest well, Effie Trinket. I'll keep your memo about blue and orange in mind." Cinna says, smiling.

"Thank you, Cinna. I can't thank you enough for everything." I say, and he nods and walks away. I open my door and shove my heels off my feet. Walking fast to my bed, I fall asleep immediately, not bothering to undress or to take off my make up or wig.


	14. Drinking

**Chapter 14: Drinking**

"Why the hell would you do that?" Haymitch's voice booms, so loud that I can hear him even though I'm on the other side of the door. Opening it, I see a scared looking doctor staring at Haymitch, who is cursing up a storm in the office. I don't believe he's entirely sober.

"Haymitch, please." I say, annoyed and appalled at his language as I straighten out my outfit. Without taking his glaring eyes off the doctor, he brings his pointer finger up to my face, as if telling me to wait.

"This doesn't concern you, Princess. Her body does not need any damn alterations. Patch her and the boy up. That's it. Do you understand?" he says to the doctor, who nods slowly. I roll my eyes.

"Haymitch, they just want to give Katniss a few implants. Surely this is not as big of a deal as you're making it out the be." I tell him. What was his deal with doing everything so natural? Natural hasn't been in for a few years now. Then again, Haymitch has never really been up to date with these things.

"She doesn't need implants, Effie. _She_ is a _kid_! If she wants to get them when she's conscious, then I don't give a damn. But right now, she isn't conscious, and I'm her mentor. I make the decisions, and I say no. FINAL. ANSWER." and with that, Haymitch crashes a metal tray of tools into the nearby wall. I flinch inwardly, but after years of his outbursts, I've learned to deal with them pretty well.

"What about the boy?" the doctor asks nervously, inching for the phone on the wall. Probably to call security. I debate on whether not to stop him from doing so as Haymitch yells more.

"Do you expect my answer to be any different for him? Why the hell would he need any alterations, either? Maybe I should have a chat with President Snow himself, telling him to stop picking such dumbasses for doctors." Haymitch booms, hitting the wall, leaving a hole. I sigh, aggravated with this whole situation, and make my way towards the doctor, who is about to pick up the phone.

"Please, Dr. Mellany. I don't think that a phone call is necessary, do you? We'll just leave right now. Quietly. I'm terribly sorry for all the damage caused, but it's Haymitch Abernathy! Can you really expect anything more?" I ask him, trying to laugh it off. I even shoot him my most charming smile. Unfortunately, my persuasion skills aren't up to par, because 5 minutes later Security arrives to escort Haymitch out of the hospital, and I have no choice but to go with them.

"You're paying for those damages, Haymitch!" I yell once we're on the sidewalk in front of the hospital. I get a mean look in response. Haymitch pulls his hands in his pockets and starts walking down the street, shooting other pedestrians glares as he walks. Again, I have no choice but to follow him. Without answering any of my questions of where he is going, we walk until we end up in front of a tavern in the middle of the city. By now, my feet are hurting so bad, I'm positive I have blisters.

"Haymitch, we are not going inside there! I refuse." I tell him, crossing my arms in defiance. He glances back at me, raises one eyebrow and enters the tavern, leaving me with my mouth wide open in offense. Quickly I recompose myself, straightening out my dark purple pencil skirt. Putting my hands on my hips, I evaluate my options and ignore the strange looks I'm receiving. Ignoring strange looks has somewhat become a specialty of mine ever since I've had to work with Haymitch. Whether it be from the district I work for itself, or from people in the Capitol when I'm with the notorious Haymitch Abernathy, it has become a natural look to receive. My options are this: I can go home, the most responsible option and certainly the best one, or go inside the tavern with Haymitch, although I know he probably wouldn't want me there. Finally deciding what to do, I take three steps in the direction to my hotel when I turn back around and scamper into the tavern. Immediately, I feel out of place.

"Hey, honey!" I hear a voice call, and an absurd look appears on my face when I realize that this drunkard is talking to me. I continue to stare at the man in an absurd way, not sure of what to do and appalled he would treat me such a way until someone yanks my arm. I get pulled to a booth in the back of the tavern, a section that is considerably less populated, even though I fight to get away the entire time. I close my eyes and wince as the mystery person slings me into a booth harshly.

"Ow!" I squeak, and immediately hear a man's hoarse, howling laughter. Opening my eyes, I see a man on the other side of the booth laughing away, clutching an almost empty jug of alcohol in one of his hands, his other being a stump. I immediately focus on the man's stump hand, looking in horror at it until I see the person I came in here for slide next to him, two more jugs of alcohol in hand.

"Haymitch? Was that you that grabbed me?" I ask as he slides one of the jugs to the man next to him.

"She's not too bright, is she?" the man asks, finishing his first jug. Haymitch smirks, then directs his eyes towards me, which immediately makes him frown.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asks, and like a silly school girl, I just shrug my shoulders.

"I wanted to make sure you were safe." I say, making up an excuse. I don't know why I'm here myself.

"So you follow the old man to a bar?" the man asks, and I open my mouth to defend myself.

"Yes! That's where he was, and I wanted to follow him, so I went! Who even are you?" I ask, yelling. The man turns to Haymitch, who's still staring my down, frown still in place.

"Well I'll be damned. Won a Games and still nobody recognizes me. What's a man gotta do to get a little recognition around here? I didn't get this damn stump for nothing." he says, waving his stump in the air. It's as if Haymitch didn't even hear him, the way he doesn't react. I get distracted by the man's ugly stump of a hand again, which makes him roar with laughter again.

"You shouldn't be here. Why you think this is any place for you, or that I am a child that needs to be followed, is beyond me." Haymitch states, and the anger in his voice is noticeable. I feel my face turn red as I look down.

"Lighten up, Abernathy! Pass her a drink." he says, slapping Haymitch on the back with his good hand.

"A drink?" I ask, horrified. "No, thank you. I have business to attend to all week and I actually value my job. Therefore, a hangover wouldn't exactly be ideal." For some reason, the man laughs again. Suddenly, what he said moments earlier comes back to me.

"I'm sorry, who did you say you are again? What Hunger Games did you win?" I ask.

"My names Chaff, darlin'. I won – what was it? – the 45th Hunger Games, if memory serves. Can't really trust it after a few drinks, right, Abernathy?" he says, elbowing Haymitch with a grin. Haymitch, who was currently downing the whole jug of alcohol, slams his jug down and smirks.

"He was that idiot who managed to get his arm chopped off, then refused a replacement." Haymitch tells me jokingly, but the look in his eyes also tell me that he's still mad at me for being here.

"I didn't think you would consider that an idiot thing to do, considering the fact that you don't want any alterations done on Katniss or Peeta." I interject, to which Chaff slams his drink down in delight.

"Look out, Haymitch! This one's got spunk!" he says, laughing. Haymitch's eyes tighten to another glare after he rolls his eyes at Chaff. I seem to be getting a lot of those from him lately.

"That's different. I don't see the Capitol eager to give Chaff body implants for no reason." he snaps. I purse my lips, not wanting to get into an argument with him over something he won't change his mind on.

"Aw, don't be like that, Haymitch! I think I could use some curves." Chaff says, which I admit, makes me laugh. Even Haymitch cracks into a smile, which makes me decide to like Chaff, even if he was improper. This is the most I've seen Haymitch enjoy himself ever, and I like the fact that Chaff makes him laugh. I only wish I could bring the same joy instead of annoyance.

"Maybe you should go home now Princess, things start to get rowdy once it gets dark." Haymitch says about thirty minutes later, and the slight slur in his words lets me know that he's beginning to lose it.

"Haymitch's right, darlin'. This ain't no place for a lady like you once the crowd gets rough. From where you come from and how you look, this place is already dangerous. You stick out like a sore thumb." Chaff tells me with slightly slurred words as well, and I purse my lips. They're right, but as much as I don't want to admit it, I was actually enjoying myself. Haymitch even convinced me to have a few sips of his drink before Chaff ordered me a few glasses of wine. I'm sure the thought of that happening will horrify me in the morning.

"I suppose so. Haymitch, you better be present tomorrow. There's no telling when Katniss and Peeta will be done with their recovery, and we need to be there when they wake up." I say, slipping out the booth.

"Hear that, Haymitch?" Chaff yells, and I can't tell if he's mocking me or not. My guess is that he is, especially by the way that Haymitch is smiling. "Don't you worry darlin', I'll see to it that he's there. Victor's honor." Chaff winks at me, then salutes with his stump, making Haymitch slam his own hand on the table with laughter. I stare at his stump again with horror, then force myself to meet Chaff's eyes. Giving him a polite smile, I hurry out of the tavern, somewhat scared of everybody inside.


	15. A Lack Thereof Goodbyes

**Chapter 15: (A Lack Thereof) Goodbyes**

Maybe this is just a consequence of too much stress. Maybe I'm actually attached. Who really knows? All I know is that for some reason, a reason I can't quite put my finger on, escorting Haymitch back to District 12 is a little harder than it was anytime before. I tell myself that it's because we have not only one but two victors going back with us, and in a way that's true. I've grown attached to Katniss and Peeta, even with all their minor annoyances they bring me.

"Well, Princess, you know what this means." Haymitch says to me as we make our way to our bedrooms.

"I guess I do." I say, forcing a smile. Actually, I have no idea what anything means, but I don't want him to think of me more stupid than he already does.

Haymitch grunts. "The first year is always the worst." I stop in my tracks. The realization of what he means hits me, and a strange feeling crashes over me.

"I bet they won't be half as hard to deal with." I say, almost playfully, but there's a sadness and seriousness that I can't hide.

"What can I say?" Haymitch says. I cringe at his words. That he'll stop drinking. That he'll visit. That he'll miss me.

Another forced smile. "Absolutely nothing, Haymitch. Goodnight." I reach my room and as I wash off today's make up, I consider the idea of having Katniss and Peeta as my new coworkers. It won't be awful, I reason. Why should it be? It has no reason to be. Yes, they will have to suffer through watching two kids die every year, but what can I do to change that? What can anybody do? I reasoned in my head some time ago that whatever plans Plutarch and Haymitch have are worthless. The Capitol is impugnable. This thought makes me think back to the time Haymitch kissed me to keep us from looking suspicious, both from the people coming and the cameras surely around us.

"Get over yourself, Effie." I snap, twisting the water knobs off.

The next day comes, and I am surely not over it. I have an annoying tendency to become attached to things far too quickly, and another tendency to become annoyed by things I can't change.

"The Victory Tour is in 6 months, and I expect you to be there. It's only customary that you should be." I tell a very groggy Haymitch, who is currently face down on the table. Katniss and Peeta have become distant lately, which is why we are seated at the table alone, and while I'm sure Haymitch knows why, he hasn't mentioned it to me. I don't worry about it, because every couple has their quarrels. It's easily understandable that they're having differences at this time, seeing as they just came out of an arena of people trying to kill them and becoming the first pair of victors. It's stressful making history.

"I also want you to stop seeing Plutarch. It's not safe, sensible, and since you won't be visiting the Capitol often now, I suggest it stop." I say when he ignores me. This catches his attention. Haymitch looks up, a little drool on the corner of his mouth, and glares. Pursing my lips, I cut up my chicken in front of me, pretending to not notice. Haymitch bangs his fist on the table, making the silverware around us as well as myself jump. I think he's beginning to say something, but instead fails and ends up face down on his empty plate again. I hear the plate crack underneath the pressure. I stare at him for a minute, wary and clutching my silverware, then proceed to eat the rest of my meal in silence. Alone.

As I let the Avox on board take my plate, Katniss joins the table. Rolling her eyes at her mentor, she gives me a look that I think is her trying to muster up a smile, but instead she scrunches up her face in what looks like pain.

"Is everything okay, Katniss?" I ask. She considers my question for a moment before frowning. She keeps her eyes on Haymitch in front of her.

"Should we be arriving at 12 soon?"

"Of course," I tell her, patting the corners of my mouth with a napkin, "Where's Peeta?" my only answer is her leaving the table, frown still in place. Well, I guess being a Victor has its hardships. Haymitch has proven that.

When the train stops in 12, there are no goodbyes. Just like every year, the train unloads all the precious cargo and leaves. There is no goodbye between Katniss and I, Peeta, or Haymitch. It would probably hurt a lot more if this wasn't how it was every year before, when it was just Haymitch coming back home. Most likely intoxicated. This year, however, he's sober, and when the train starts to go, I catch a tiny glimpse of Haymitch speaking to a reporter, camera right on him. I smile when I think of how Haymitch must be resenting it all.


	16. Hurt Feet and Bruised Backs

**Chapter 16: Hurt Feet and Bruised Backs**

"Honestly, why must you do this?" I ask, exasperated.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Princess." Haymitch says groggily, picking himself off the floor and wiping his drooling mouth. I place my hands on my hips and purse my lips, watching him pick himself up. Bypassing me, he makes his way to the door when he steps on a shard of glass, no doubt from a broken alcohol bottle. I jump, hesitant on whether I should help him or not.

"Damn." he says under his breath, frowning. Then, hopping on one foot, he opens the door.

"Where are you going? You just cut your foot!" I yell, walking towards Haymitch as he leans on the doorway.

"You're right. Mind gettin' that for me?" he asks, and I look at him like he's crazy. "You've seen kids die on television since you were born, Effie. I'll be damned if you can't yank a piece of glass out."

"But what if I cut myself?" I ask, scared. Haymitch looks at me with a serious expression. The confusion shows on my face as he holds it.

"I think the world would end." Haymitch says seriously, and I slap his arm.

"You're not funny, Haymitch." I say sternly to him, who is now smirking. Bending down, he carefully takes the glass out of his foot, dripping blood on the carpet of his room.

"Oh, Haymitch, you got it on the carpet!" I say, annoyed. "Now I have to call room service." Haymitch scoffs, tossing the piece of glass somewhere in the room.

"You don't need room service for this, what the hell are you, crippled? Just get a towel." he says, rubbing the blood in with his hurt foot, successfully getting more blood on the carpet while smearing what was already there. I shoot him a look.

"Ew, fine. I suppose I will." I hurry to the bathroom, coming back to the spot with a white towel. Placing it down, I step on the towel with my heels.

"That should be fine for now. I hope it doesn't stain." I say sadly.

"Don't we all?" Haymitch asks sarcastically as he walks to the bathroom, probably to get a bandage.

"The point of the towel was to keep the rest of the room clean." I say, looking at the trail of his bloody foot until he gets to the hardwood floor. I hear a crash come from the bathroom and I roll my eyes, making my way to the source.

"Haymitch, what are you doing?" I ask.

"Looking for pills." Haymitch tells me as he knocks over more products. I roll my eyes again and press a blue button next to the wide mirror. The mirror transforms to a touch screen, letting you toggle the different pills in stock.

"You just passed it. It's the purple one." I say as he passes the green pill usually used for pain.

"No, I didn't." he says, and I look at him curiously. He stops at a bright pink pill and taps the screen. After choosing his weight and height, it's only a matter of seconds before the pink pill pops out of a tiny compartment near the shower.

"Hangover pills?" I'm not sure why I'm surprised. "Ugh, you would."

"Of course I would, Princess. I'm an alcoholic." he says, as if that's the most apparent thing in the world. It could possibly be.

"You don't usually take those." I note.

" I don't like to. Makes me nicer than I want to be. I figured I'd take them for the tour, though. Least I could do and all that." I don't know why, but what he says touches my heart. He didn't even say it in a particularly nice way, but I smile widely.

"Thank you, Haymitch. It's needed." I say sincerely. "Do you need water?" I ask just as he swallows them raw.

"Can I suggest a shower then?" I say, crossing my arms.

"You can suggest whatever you like." he says in a tone that lets me know he's not going to listen to any suggestion I bring him. I sigh.

"If you're going to be late, please let me know. I cannot spend time wondering where my mentor is when I have two victors that are already a handful." I tell him. A silence falls between us, but a calm, thinking silence instead of an awkward one. How nice it would be to just sit here all day, left by our own thoughts but together. Not for forever, but just for today.

"I still can't believe they won." I say in a small voice. I'm mostly thinking aloud, so I wasn't expecting him to reply.

"They're not going to let them get away with it." Haymitch says, and I consider this. I consider the fact that he's always tied up with a revolution, and his own disdain for the Capitol to give me an objective answer. I also consider the fact that I, myself, have my own opinion of the Capitol that lets me not give an objective answer either.

"It's been months, Haymitch. Surely they would have done something by now. Besides, they're victors. The Capitol can't hurt victors, that's uncalled for. They have never done so, and will continue not to do so. I'm sure." Haymitch scoffs, and I give him a confused look. I realize he's probably just skeptical, but he has no reason to be. I've lived in the Capitol all my life, I know the places and I know the people. They're not mean. If they were, wouldn't I know they were by now? Still, something deep down nags at my brain. Scared of it, I shove it down deeper.

"They didn't hurt you, did they?" I ask him, trying to make a point. Haymitch considers this for a moment before rubbing the back of his neck.

"I suppose they didn't have to, I can hurt myself already. Didn't stop them from trying, though." I give him an even more confused look, suddenly interested and scared all at once.

"What do you mean?" I ask. Haymitch puts his hands on his knees and sits down on the toilet. He grunts and checks his foot, swearing underneath his breath again.

"You need a bandage for that." Haymitch rolls his eyes."Just trying to help."

"Have you ever seen my Games?" he asks, looking at his foot again. He appears to be examining it, so I can't watch his face.

"Yes. I wanted to do my homework before I got my job. I figured I could know who I was working with better." I say, wanting to justify why I watched a Games before my time for some odd reason.

"I didn't ask for an explanation." he says, annoyed. "How did I win?" I try to remember. I know it was between him and someone from District 1, but I can't remember if it was the boy or the girl. I rapidly try to jog my memory, not wanting to look stupid.

"You fought with a person from One."

"How?" I think harder. How did he? Suddenly, something clicks. The force field.

"You used the force field! I remember now. You were placed in the 'unique' section in Capitol Weekly when they held their last Hunger Games issue. It was an article on the different weapons used. You know, popular ones, favorites of people within the Capitol, unique ones, common ones. They did this really great piece on Finnick Odair's trident." I tell him, but I stop when I realize I'm rambling. Haymitch wrinkles his nose in disgust. I guess he doesn't like finding out he's been in magazines, but that really shouldn't surprise him. He's a victor.

"Well, because of that, my family's dead." Haymitch says flatly, which catches me extremely off guard.

"What?" I ask in loud whisper.

"My girl, too. Though I suppose I should have handled that better. I was too preoccupied with protecting my family to really put time in for her, too." my jaw drops, and I cover it with my hand. That can't happen. I bet it was some accident that just happened and Haymitch decided to blame it on the Capitol. It's just impossible.

"No. No, Haymitch. I'm sorry, but that's not possible." I say quietly, but I'm doing it more for my reassurance than to argue with him. He must sense this, because although I expect him to, he doesn't yell. Instead, he stands up and watches me. Tears are forming in my eyes, but I don't know why. It's not true, so there's nothing to be sad about.

"They don't do that type of stuff. Are you sure you're not mistaken?" I ask him, tears spilling over. Haymitch gives a hard, forced laugh and grits his teeth.

"I'm not wrong, Effie." he says. Before I can stop myself from this terrible idea, I walk over to Haymitch and hug him. My arms wrapped around his neck, I try to comfort him in some way, even though I don't think he really was asking for it. We stay like that for a few moments, then I compose myself enough to start crying. I pull away only to see Haymitch giving me an annoyed look.

"What?" I say, genuinely confused.

"Don't do that." he says, uncomfortable. It's an odd thing, hearing Haymitch's voice sound uncomfortable.

"Do what? Comfort you? It was supposed to be a loving gesture!" I raise my voice, not believing that he completely killed the genuine moment we just had. "You just completely ruined the mood!"

"I don't need to be comforted." he says, getting up. I put my hands on my hips, offended. He sees this and responds.

"The last thing I need is an erratic girl from the Capitol comforting me." this just makes me more offended.

"I can't believe you would judge me based on where I'm from!" at this, Haymitch laughs. Not a sarcastic laugh, either, but a genuine throw-his-head-back laugh.

"Well I hope you're happy," I say, "because you just completely ruined something that could have been a special moment." Haymitch poking his bottom lip out in mock sadness, but his eyes remain grave. There's a lull in the conversation then, this time an uncertain silence, because I'm not sure of what to say.

"Haymitch, I think we need to start planning. We have the ball coming up and –" my sentence is interrupted by an angry kiss from Haymitch. Why am I always getting interrupted? I sink into the kiss, cupping his face with my hands. He, on the other hand, slams me forcefully into a wall. I squeak, making him break away.

"What was that?" I scream at him, although I don't know why I am. It's not like it wasn't wanted, deep down. Not that he gets to know that. Haymitch runs his hands through his hair, balling his hand into a fist when he's done. He looks around the room, probably looking for something to smash, but he settles for pushing me against the wall again and kissing me once more. The anger in his kiss is hard to look over, but every time I pull away for a few seconds, be it for air or to ask what's wrong, I'm shut up. I lose track of how long this goes on, which is an odd thing in itself. Not only am I kissing a person who annoys me like no other, I am also not aware of the time or what I'm supposed to be doing at this moment. This thought annoys me greatly, but every time I try to leave my will crumbles.

As things start to get heated, Haymitch picks me up and sits me on the bathroom counter, which relieves my probably bruised back. As soon as he does, however, Haymitch freezes. I follow suit, and we lock our eyes on the open bathroom door. We hear the door to the room open, and immediately I push Haymitch off of me and quickly jump down from the counter. Making sure everything piece of my clothing and my hair in place, I turn to Haymitch and straighten out his clothes as well, who seems content just standing there listening. I'm desperately trying to wipe the lipstick off of Haymitch's face, who keeps smirking just to mess me up, when a person enters the bathroom. I turn around only to see an Avox, holding a tray of supplies.

"Yes, well, come on, Haymitch. Lets get out of the way and let her do her job." I say, taking Haymitch by his hand and leading him out. I smile at the Avox as we leave, but she keeps a straight face. As we reach the living room, I give an annoyed sigh as I see Haymitch with a ring of light blue lipstick still around his lips.

"Well that was fun, Princess." he says, and I can't help but crack a smile.

"Get cleaned up," I say, making a disgusted noise, "we have a schedule to stick to." searching for my clipboard, I see Haymitch smirk out of the corner of my eye. Then, as if nothing had happened, I see him leave.

"If I can't find my clipboard you're dead, Abernathy!" I scream as loud as I can to make sure he can hear me. I try to sound as threatening as possible, but my voice cracks at the end as I start smiling. Every etiquette standard tells me a lady such as myself shouldn't be this happy that she kissed a middle aged alcoholic, but since no one is around, I decide to go ahead and let myself be happy. At least for now.


	17. It's Not Fair

**Chapter 17: It's Not Fair**

"You might go in. And Katniss. Oh, god, and Katniss. And maybe Peeta. Or maybe you. I just can't believe it." I sob, holding the phone to my ear. I hear a sigh.

"Peeta is going to volunteer for me the second I get my name called, there's no doubt about that." Haymitch says.

"But still! Why are they doing this? You're all victors, you have immunity for life!" I shout into the phone. This isn't fair. This isn't right.

"Not this year, Princess." I fight back the urge to scream. Scream, kick, cry, anything to get the emotion out. But then I remind myself that that's the improper thing to do, and Effie Trinket doesn't do the improper things to do... most of the time.

"This isn't fair." That simple phrase seems to be the only clear thing running through my mind. It's like a part of my pulse now, because I think it every time my heart beats.

"Obviously." I decide not to yell at him for his sarcastic attitude.

"Are you scared?"

"Why should I be? I'm not going in." I sigh, taking that assurance in. "By the way, you haven't heard the worst part of this whole ordeal." My eyes widen. I'm not sure if I can take many more bad things right now. I tell him to continue.

"Peeta took all of the alcohol." I try my best to send a glare through the phone.

"He drank it?" I raise my voice.

"No, he trashed it. As soon as we heard the announcement. Katniss had a little, though. Held more in than I thought she would, I'll give her that."

"You let Katniss drink?" I scream, "Need I remind you that she is a minor?"

"No, she isn't. She's a victor, which makes her old enough to me. If you want to get technical, though, our whole district's full of miners." Haymitch says, clearly proud of his joke. I try to send another glare.

"Why did Peeta do such a thing? Albeit, it was the right thing to do. Do you need me to send more?" _Oh my god_, I think. I'm an enabler. I'm enabling Haymitch Abernathy.

"We're on a fierce training schedule, Princess." he says mockingly, but his comment reminds me why I called in the first place.

"I'll be there as soon as I can." I say seriously. "This isn't right." There's a long pause before Haymitch answers.

"Hurry, Effie." he says seriously. Tears flow down my cheeks again as I tell him I will. There's a silence on the phone, then I hear Peeta call Haymitch's name.

"Who would want to call you?" I hear Katniss say to him, which makes me break out into a teary smile.

"Your escort." Haymitch says harshly, and I can almost see Katniss rolling her eyes.

"I'll let you go, Haymitch." I say, and when he says goodbye, I hang up. For a second, I'm giggling because just thinking of Haymitch being forced into sobriety and a training schedule makes me laugh. Then, in the middle of that, my giggles turn into crying and then I can't stop. This isn't fair. This isn't fair. _This isn't fair. _My blood starts to boil as I think of all the things in life that aren't fair. The fact that the victors of every district are going into the Hunger Games again, Seneca Crane's public execution(they say it was because they found treasonous material with his name on it, but Haymitch told me it was because of Katniss and Peeta), the fact that every year the Capitol sends two kids to die, Haymitch's family and old girlfriend, the look on everyone's faces every year during the Reaping, the wedding that will never happen between Katniss and Peeta. How I have been oblivious my whole life, and continue to be on most subjects. This is all so unmanageable.

* * *

><p>My heart sinks as I read out his name. It's a truly unnerving sight, and for the first time in my life, I think I can slightly understand what families go through when their loved ones are called.<p>

"Haymitch Abernathy!" I turn to face Haymitch with a forced smile, who is slumped down in his seat with his arms crossed. He rolls his eyes, and Peeta volunteers before Haymitch can stand.

"How romantic!" I shout enthusiastically. I feel light headed. The program ends shortly afterward as the four of us make our way to the Justice Building. While Peeta and Katniss are off somewhere, Haymitch and I make our way to the train. I have to grab his arm for support, because this whole ordeal is making me want to faint.

"I've decided." I say to him in a whisper. Haymitch raises his eyebrow.

"Seriously, Effie. Know what you're getting yourself into." he says in a gruff whisper.

"It's not fair." I tell him, and after holding eye contact for a minute or two, he nods his head.

"Okay." he says seriously. "Put the bracelet I gave you on, and come with me once we get to the Capitol. We'll need to discuss our gaming strategy." he says back in a normal tone of voice, which is probably why he's being so general. He walks away, making me let go of his arm.

I sit down on the first seat I find, my hand on my forehead. I try to take deep breaths. My heart is pounding fast now, because I know what choice I've just made. The Reaping has only made me more sure. I've spent many days and nights contemplating this, and while I'm scared, I feel it's the right choice. Haymitch assured me that this would be extremely risky, and even said that he couldn't promise my well-being. But somehow, that didn't seem to matter, especially when our lips met silently and quickly. The kisses weren't often, and it usually led to Haymitch being silent afterward and making himself heavily guarded and cold, thinking hard on something that I didn't know about. Even so, I was happy they were happening at all. I was not to tell anybody, not even the kids, for they don't know what they're part of themselves.

Haymitch's name on the slip of paper keeps flashing up in my mind, as well as Katniss' name. I have just made the choice of becoming an underground rebel. I feel paranoid, like someone is going to pop up and find me out any minute. I feel distrustful. I feel anger. I, Effie Trinket, feel like a rebel. The feeling is much different than anything I thought it would feel like. I thought I was being a rebel when I chose to go midnight blue on my prom dress while the latest trend said to go pastel, but now here I am, choosing to rebel against my own country. Rebelling against a place that has given me everything I have. I sigh, lifting myself up. Nobody warned me that when I chose to be an escort, it would be the death of me.


	18. Day Off

**Chapter 18: Day Off**

"The salad here is lovely." I note to Haymitch, who sits uncomfortably across from me. We're at Scarletta's, a tiny diner, for lunch. The reason for Haymitch looking so uncomfortable is what I made him wear for the occasion. A light blue dress shirt with khakis, complete with a pastel pink tie, is all that I could get him into. Even getting him to agree to wear that was a hassle.

"Tastes the same as anywhere." he says, earning a quick glare from the waitress who arrived to refill our glasses.

"Always classy, Haymitch." I say before sipping my red wine.

"There's more to life than class, Princess." he says, which sparks a debate.

"On the contrary, I think that's what life is all about. Those in the upper class always oppressing the lower class. Those in the lower class resenting the upper class. Stuck in your respective classes for life, which certainly affect your livelihood." Haymitch gives me an amused look, raising one eyebrow, and I clean the corners of my mouth with my napkin to hid my smile.

"I suppose you're right, Princess." he says, still eying me with amusement, "so I guess you should count your lucky stars you were born in the right one."

"I don't think there's a right one." I say, "There's just the fortunates and the unfortunates."

"And what am I?" I consider this for a moment. I take in his appearance, which is significantly more attractive tonight than usual.

"You're an unfortunate who became fortunate, I suppose." Haymitch gives a stiff laugh.

"I don't feel very fortunate." I consider this, too. I remember his alcoholism, the fact that he had to kill others just to survive, and his family, and I realize that my Capitol privilege is getting in the way of seeing things clearly again. Just how much of me did the Capitol contaminate? From what I've come to find out, everything.

"I suppose you're not." I say, defeated. Haymitch throws his head back and finishes his wine, then places it as well as his plates in the center of the table.

"We should go back." I stop eating and give him a weird look.

"And do what? We all have the day off, lets enjoy it." Haymitch swears under his breath.

"I am trying to enjoy it, woman. But then you put me in this contraption and took me somewhere." he says, loosening his tie.

"It's called a tie, not a contraption. Plus, if you keep pulling at it, you're going to choke yourself."

"That's the plan, Princess." Haymitch says sarcastically. I roll my eyes.

"So are we leaving then?" I ask, and Haymitch gets up in response. I push my chair in and then push Haymitch's in as well, considering he has no common courtesy. We make our way to the front of the diner to pay for our check.

"There." Haymitch says harshly, lightly tossing a few paper bills on the counter. The man gives him a horrified look.

"Now I know why you have no friends." I say as the man is ringing the expenses up.

"I have friends, you've met Chaff." Haymitch retorts, and I roll my eyes. Linking arms with him, we make our way out of the diner and into a little boutique to do some shopping, much to Haymitch's chagrin. He stands near the entrance with his arms crossed, a resentful expression on his face. I would think he was mad if I didn't understand that this was how he usually looks. I, on the other hand, move my way around the store, looking for statement pieces. After purchasing what I wanted, we go to leave when we get stopped by a woman and her son.

"Excuse me, Miss Trinket. But my son would love it if he could have an autograph from Mr. Abernathy. This is, if you don't mind. It's just not everyday you see a victor out and about, especially not a Quarter Quell victor! They usually stay secluded." the woman says, smiling.

"There's a reason for that." Haymitch says, but I interrupt his rudeness to tell the woman that he would love to give her son an autograph. The woman digs around in her oversized purse for a pen and paper as I smile at the kid.

"What's your name?" I ask him. He looks to be around 10, and something about his face seems familiar.

"Oriah Tinselton." he says proudly, puffing his chest out. I immediately recognize the last name.

"You're Merity Tinselton's son! Oh, how adorable!" I say, clapping my hands together. Merity Tinselton is a government official, mainly working with Financial Affairs. Oriah gives Haymitch and I a toothy smile as he hands Haymitch the paper and pen. Grunting and with a frown, Haymitch signs his name with a handwriting that's sloppy at best. Even so, the boy is overjoyed and gives Haymitch a hug, telling him he is "super cool with extra sprinkles on top", making my heart melt. Haymitch pats the boy's back as his mom pries him away. Haymitch manages to give the boy a small smile.

"Are you two an item? How cute!" Mrs. Tinselton says as I subconsciously hook my arm with Haymitch's. We both give her weird, confused looks.

"Of course not." Haymitch says, and I unhook his arm.

"We have a strictly professional relationship, ma'am, but thank you anyways for the gracious compliment." I lie. Oh, god. Haymitch and I dating? There's no point in lying to myself saying that we do have just a strictly professional relationship, because we clearly don't, but we are most certainly not in a relationship. I don't know what we are, but we're not that. Do we really need any labels?

"What a shame." she says in false pity, and I laugh her comment off while Haymitch clears his throat. After we bid farewell to them, we walk to Haymitch's room with little chatter. Once in his room, we waste no time to start kissing. Progressing slowly from his door way to the living room, I almost jump out of my skin when I hear a voice.

"Hope I'm not interrupting." Plutarch says amusingly. Haymitch turns his head to look at Plutarch, who is sitting on the couch, and gives him a death glare. We push ourselves off of each other, mostly out of anger than embarrassment.

"What?" Haymitch says yells.

"Just wanted to give you this." Plutarch says, pulling a folded up piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. Then, looking at me up and down, he starts again. "I can see you're in good hands now, Abernathy."

"This is unprofessional, Plutarch, I'm sorry." I say as Haymitch snatches the note out of Plutarch's hands.

"Don't be!" he says, amused, "I was wondering how Haymitch spent his time when he wasn't drinking himself away. Now I know. You two really are quite the couple."

"We're not together." Haymitch says, annoyed, while reading the note.

"He's right." I back him up. Plutarch frowns, looking at both of us.

"Shame." he says, raising both his eyebrows. "Anyway, I must get going. Continue on with your thing, whatever it is, and I think we can all agree for this to never come up."

"Wait." Haymitch says as Plutarch opens the door. "I'm coming with you."

"Why?" I ask, saddened.

"This is stupid." Haymitch says seriously, holding up the note. Completely ignoring me. Plutarch shrugs his shoulders.

"Just Preliminary Capitol Policy. I was hoping I'd get your opinions on a thing or two, but I don't want you to leave your lovely lady." Ignoring that as well, Haymitch quickly puts his shoes back on.

"We don't want to be together, Plutarch." I remind him.

"Right, of course. I'm sorry, Effie." Plutarch says, flashing me a smile. I expect to hear sarcasm in his voice, but I detect none. They walk out the door, neither of them saying goodbye, and I'm left in Haymitch's room by myself.

This is so not how I wanted the rest of this day to be. What was I to do now? The whole District 12 team has the day off today, meaning there was no schedule to follow and no plans to plan. Sighing, I sit down on the couch and turn on the TV. The only thing playing were re-runs of past Hunger Games, particularly the last Quarter Quell. I consider watching Haymitch's games, but then decide that I didn't want to see him like that. Seeing him young would be fun, yes, but seeing him starved and bloody? No, I don't think I need to see that. At least not alone.

With that decision, I turn the TV off and start cleaning Haymitch's messy room. I grumble, realizing that I've resorted to becoming the housewife of Haymitch Abernathy for the day. I'm too much of a workaholic for this. Granted, that's work too, but not the work that I value. But today, I think I can make an exception, considering that there's nothing else to do. As time passes on, I get more and more anxious for the interviews tomorrow. This Quell is getting more and more real, which is terrifying. I can only imagine what Katniss and Peeta feel, who have no idea what people are dragging them into. I start to wonder what they're doing on their day off, and I hope that they're alright, whatever they're doing. After I'm done with Haymitch's room, I decide to jot down some key things Katniss and Peeta could say in their interviews tomorrow. Odds are, I won't even mention it to them, but it passes the time.

"What'd you do to my apartment?" Haymitch says gloomily, snapping me out of focus. When did he get here?

"I tidied it up, don't you like it?" I ask.

"No." he says. I give him an offended look. Well, leave it to Haymitch to be honest. He smirks and puts his tie down on the table. I sigh.

"But Haymitch, you looked so good with it on! So put together!" I tell him.

"But I'm not put together." he says, sitting down and turning on the TV. The first thing he sees is his Hunger Games. I know this not because he's on the screen, but by his reaction. He shouts a string of cuss words, but doesn't change the channel. I get up from the table and sit by him on the couch, slowly working my way into holding his hand. We stay like that for some time, silently watching the TV. Every time the screen cuts to him, he squeezes my hand. Sometimes he squeezes so hard, especially when he's shown with one of the girl tributes from District 12, I feel like he's breaking every bone in my hand, but I don't let go. We work out a silent system. The harder the squeeze, the more it hurts. The harder the squeeze, more support is needed. When the girl, Maysilee, is dying, I feel for sure that Haymitch will get up and leave. I keep waiting for it, I keep waiting for the inevitable breakdown, the sea of tears, but it never comes. Haymitch keeps his composure with an angry look on his face, squeezing my hand when needed. Haymitch's strength, during his Games and re-watching it with him, gives me a spark of inspiration.

How many times has he seen me cry? Probably more than I can count. I'm an emotional person. I'm a crier. But Haymitch? I can count the amount of times I've seen him truly smile on one hand, so the possibility of seeing him cry is nearly impossible. He seems like the epitome of emotional constraint.

"You can cry if you need to." I tell him gently. It's down to two now on the screen. Haymitch keeps his eyes locked on the screen with the same angry expression. I wonder if he heard me at all?

"Crying solves nothing." Haymitch says. I realize that he's right. Haymitch and the girl from One are meeting now. I watch in silence as he gouges the girl's eye out. I stare at him, trying to find a way to connect myself with him so I can take his pain away. There isn't one. I start to kiss his neck, cursing myself because this is the best I can offer. At first he doesn't take his eyes off the screen, but when the girl throws the axe and misses, he reciprocates. Without the usual forcefulness and anger, the kisses come with a sadness to them. Clothes start coming off, and it's when his shirt comes off that he stops. I look up at him, wondering what was wrong.

"Effie." his voice is hoarse. "I can't."

"Can't what? Be with me? Haymitch, come on, I'm not asking you to be with me." I say, wishing he would just let me continue.

"I know. I just can't.. Please, just try to understand, this is hard.." Haymitch seems lost for words, something I'm not used to hearing. "I am a loner. I do things alone, and I like being alone. I don't want to compromise that. I don't want contact, emotionally or physically." I give him an 'are-you-serious?' look.

"Then what are we doing?" I ask, but it's really more of a statement. Haymitch sighs.

"When emotions are involved, things get shitty." he says, and I scoff.

"then emotions don't have to be involved!" I shout, but Haymitch just sighs again. "Yes, they do." He's right. They do. They already are, at least in my case. I'm in a cloud of confusion before it hits me.

"If you're so afraid of being hurt, then be a man and say it, Haymitch." I say angrily. I get off of him and adjust my dress, which was previously hanging off my body.

"I'm not afraid of anything, Princess. Maybe, just maybe, I wanted to let you down easy. It's better than saying 'hey, I don't wanna fuck you'. Ever think of that? No, because you're a stupid Capitol citizen. You wouldn't know what it's like to do anything for yourself, or feel any kind of pain. I would hate to be you, because you have no value as a person as at all. And please, Princess, spare me the tears. At least until you're out of earshot. I can't tell you how many times you've annoyed me with your pointless, loud sobbing. Just get the hell out of here." he shouts, angrier than I've ever seen him. And like the _stupid Capitol citizen_ I am, I just stare at him, horrified. If I had my senses with me, I would slap him, but I don't. I just hold my horrified stare, looking into his hate filled eyes.

"Okay." I leave the room as quickly as possible, running down the hallway as if there were a big, scary monster after me. But there's nobody. I'm not even crying, I just run until I get to my room. Even then, with the door shut and locked, I can't bring myself to cry. I blame it on the shock, because believe me, my insides feel like they were just torn out. The humiliation and sadness sink into my mind, and I sink to my knees. I kick off my heels and bring my knees close to my face, and only then do the first tears fall. I don't sob, like you would expect a person to, but instead I let the tears fall silently. I can't even comprehend what just happened. As the day goes on, I stay like that, not even bothering to answer the phone when it rings. Or when it rings the second time, or the third. Forth. Fifth. Sixth. It keeps ringing, but I stay where I am, wondering why my tear ducts aren't working like they're supposed to be. It's only when the phone stops ringing for what seems like an hour do I start sobbing, but five minutes into it and I'm already drifting to sleep.


	19. Taken

**Chapter 19: Taken**

I lie awake in bed, frantic and emotional. Most of all, scared. Saying goodbye to Katniss and Peeta wasn't a fun occasion. What if they get hurt? What if they die? I'm too scared to even try holding in those thoughts for more than a second. With all this on my mind, you would think Haymitch's words would be the last thing on my mind. Wrong. His words, repeated over and over again, boom over my worries with the kids. We acted like nothing was wrong in front of Katniss and Peeta, because not only do they deserve it in such a turbulent time, but we don't want to deal with it ourselves. I suppose it was a little flight, that's all. We said ourselves that we weren't together.

I try to ignore my thoughts completely, knowing that I'm the last thing on Haymitch's mind. Which isn't a bad thing, because he has two lives he needs to worry about now. I shouldn't get in the way. This realization snaps me back to reality. I need to start worrying about Katniss and Peeta's lives, too. Well, I need to start doing something about it. I already have been worrying. In my flurry of jumbled up thoughts, I drift off to sleep, dreading tomorrow.

By morning, I'm a mess. Haymitch is with Plutarch and others, leaving me by myself. I come to understand that the next time I'll see him, if all things go according to plan, the arena should be destroyed. As the Games start, I'm already a mess. I can't keep from crying, so I go easy on my makeup for the first time in years. My wig is hung up, and I tie my long, blonde hair in a ponytail. I see Katniss swim, which surprises me. I didn't know people of District 12 _could_ swim. I certainly can't, and I'm from the Capitol. I soon realize that it must be just Katniss, because the camera splits into two screens: one shows a worried Peeta, not daring to get off his tiny island, and Katniss and Finnick's amazing teamwork. The screen then cuts to Finnick only, swimming out to recover Peeta.

"Yes!" I scream at the TV, so happy that they were smart enough to both trust Finnick. I jingle the bracelet I have on my wrist, the same one as Finnick's, and I can't help but wonder what Haymitch is thinking right now. Is he happy they're cooperating? Is he concerned? My heart melts as I see Mags, truly a living legend. One of the first Hunger Games winners, sent in again. It doesn't seem right seeing her in the arena. I keep my eyes pealed on the screen, not wanting to miss a single event. Subconsciously, I reach for Haymitch's hand beside me before I realize he's not here. The thought leaves me saddened, but remembering what he said to me, I immediately erase him from my mind. I've got Katniss and Peeta to worry about now.

* * *

><p>There's a banging on my door, waking me up. I instantly jump out of bed, not sure what's going on. Did it happen while the Games were off camera, in the middle of the night? What could be wrong? I go to answer it, even though I'm in only a nightgown. As soon as I open the door, I'm tackled. I take a blow to the stomach, losing all the air I had in my lungs. As I gasp for air I take more blows, mostly in the head. It doesn't take long for the blows to make me delusional, and I can faintly hear somebody crying, probably me, before I black out.<p>

I wake up in a dark room, strapped to a chair. I can't see anything, but then a bright light that seems to burn my eyes turns on directly in front of me.

"Effie Trinket. What do you know about the rebellion?" a voice I've never heard before booms. My heart beats so fast I feel like it's going to explode in my chest. My mouth is too dry, not letting me answer. They must take my silence as defiance, because while I'm quickly trying to wet my mouth, a shock rips through me. I scream, never experiencing pain like this in my life.

"Don't make me ask again, Ms. Trinket." the voice says. I start to sob, but fortunately, I make out an answer.

"Nothing." another shock rips through me as I scream, trying to break free from the chair. This goes on for what seems like forever. Every question they ask, I refuse to answer. Thus, sending another crippling shock through my body. Through the sobbing, screaming, and shocking, my speech becomes more and more incoherent. Why are they doing this to me? What's going on? As soon as these questions run through my head they pass, because it hurts to think. My whole body becomes numb, starting with my arms. By some miracle, a figure unstraps me from the chair. I can't walk from all the shocking, so I get drug from the room I was in to another equally dark room. I get thrown onto what I think is a bed, sobbing and bleeding on my upper right arm from the figure's grip. I manage to curl up into a ball on the bed, crying and screaming, the pain still living on in my memory. I black out again, thankfully.

"It's time you wake up, Ms. Trinket." a voice I recognize says to me when I come to. President Snow. I lift my head slightly, then lower it back down. Even that takes too much effort.

"Look at you, all soiled and filthy. Hurting, too, I bet. People can be so harsh." he asks, and I swallow hard. I realize a stench in the air, and with a gag, I realize I'm curled up in a ball of my own urine. I vomit all over myself, and I can hear the President chuckle. With the smell of vomit and urine in the air, I can hardly breathe.

"You must be severely out of your element, Ms. Trinket. Why don't we take you to get cleaned up, somewhere nice? Much better than a cellar." he asks me, and I faintly nod my head.

"I figured that would suit you better. All you need to tell me is what I need to know, alright?" I nod my head again. "Good." There's a silence for a minute, which I'm grateful of. This is truly Hell.

"What do you know about Katniss Everdeen, Ms. Trinket? Yes, we all know she's the lovely Girl on Fire, but what do you know, personally?" he asks, and I get confused. Why is he asking about Katniss? Do I even remember a Katniss? I then realize why I'm hear. What he wants from me. They must have broken out of the arena. My blood boils. Why didn't they come get me? Did they leave me here to die? How could Haymitch let them do such a thing? Maybe this was his plan all along. Yes. Suddenly it makes sense. Why he didn't want to get too close. He never had any intention of saving me at all. Snow interrupts my thoughts to tell me he's waiting for my answer. What reason do I have to keep their secret of rebellion, realizing what I know now? There's nothing in it for me.

"Personally?" I croak out.

"Yes. What personal plans did she have for herself? Anything against our beloved Capitol? As you know, Ms. Trinket, but Katniss Everdeen is a wild, unruly girl. You know what she's like, how she can get. So defiant. Surely you can understand why I would want such a threat to Panem's security removed. Do you want your believed Capitol to burn?" Snow asks, and the more he talks, the more I'm persuaded. Katniss was almost always rude to me, I don't see how anyone could get mad at me for telling. Haymitch left me here after making me believe I would be safe when this all went down. This could be payback.

"I just want the pain to stop." I say sadly, sobbing. It feels as if someone put a hot, burning rod right down the center of my body. I could split in two at any moment.

"And it could, Ms. Trinket. This is not your fault. Don't let Katniss make you suffer." he says, acting as if he understands what I'm going through. He doesn't. I keep that in mind as I choose what to do. I just really, really want the pain to stop. No one can blame me for that, right? Haymitch could. I know for a fact that even though I am in this type of pain, that would be no excuse to betray someone. Katniss could, too. Peeta. Plutarch. Cinna. Portia. All of these people are on the line. But I just really want the pain to stop. It's unbearable. It's torturous. Can I really hold on? I could be down here forever. If I just told Snow what I knew, I could be out. He said so. I could go somewhere safe, somewhere nice. But Haymitch. And Katniss. Peeta. Plutarch. Cinna. Portia. I can't get them out of my mind. They seem so distant now, like they were just characters in a dream I had. This pain is my reality. I can't bother with dreams, I need to fix reality. Right? Wasn't this reality? Seeing them all in my mind, I make up my decision. I realize that there is no turning back.

"Okay." I tell him weakily. "What do you want to know about her?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: CLIFF HANGAAAAA. BA DUM DUM. so, what does Effie choose? TUNE IN NEXT TIME~<strong>


	20. Recovery

**Chapter 20: Recovery**

"Did she ever talk about getting out of the arena? Not by winning, but in some other way? Can you remember, Ms. Trinket?" Snow asks me sweetly.

"No." I tell him honestly. "She just wanted Peeta out. She wanted him to win."

"I see. Well, that should be all Ms. Trinket. Maybe, in the future, you will remember more." he says, getting up. I flinch, thinking he's going to hit me, but he doesn't. Instead, he walks out the room only seconds before many tall, dark figures burst in, grabbing me and dragging me to an unknown area. I scream, but I realize that nobody will hear me. Nobody can save me. I was left behind.

The figures tear off the soiled nightgown I was in and throw me into a tub of water. For a second I think that they're trying to give me a bath, but that thought is gone the moment I'm shocked. Over and over again, until I'm barely conscious. Too much in pain to even cry out. It's then that they drain the water, only to fill it up again, this time with scolding hot water that burns everywhere on my body. The only part of my body that's spared is my face, for the most part. By the time they're done with me, I'm covered with burns that are oozing with blood, unable to do anything because of how limp the shocks have made me.

I lose track of the days, succumbing to the pain they seem to inflict on me every moment I'm awake. I can't even remember the last time I've had food that wasn't stale pieces of bread. I stop questioning why I'm here, deciding that it doesn't really matter anymore. I'm here, I'm in unbearable pain, and that's the only thing that matters. Snow sees me again and again, trying hard to get me to "remember" what I knew.

"Katniss is going to kill you." I tell him vehemently. Snow chuckles.

"But where does that leave you, Ms. Trinket?" he asks, amused.

"I've been dead for some time now." I tell him honestly. I go through the never-ending pain almost nonchalantly now. Pain has become a part of me now, seeping into my being and eating away at everything I feel that isn't painful. In my dreams, I sometimes see a man with a familiar face, staggering around with no direction. I try to help him, but the closer I walk towards him, the faster he staggers away from me. Other times, I see a young girl with birds, a young boy right beside her. It's only after the birds have finished killing the two do I wake up.

I don't know how long its been when one day, the shocking is stopped unexpectedly. I lie in the tub, trying to numb myself, when a pair of arms lifts me up.

"She's alive, I've got her! I'm taking her back to the hovercraft." a man's voice shouts, making me groan. I try to lose consciousness then, deciding that it doesn't matter where anybody takes me. When did I become so uncaring? When did I lose all of my determination to do the most important thing of all, which is to live? I feel ashamed.

"You are going to die here, Ms. Trinket." Snow had told me happily, the last day he visited me. But he was wrong. I'm not going to die. I'm getting out. I wonder where I'm going as the man puts me on a stretcher once we reach a hovercraft. There's a faint stab in my arms as I stare at the ceiling, my vision getting more and more cloudy. The pain exits my body slowly, starting with my fingers and working my way into my system. I fade into the first painless sleep I've had in what seems like years.

Upon waking, I'm in small, white room with a TV on the wall in front of me. It's off, and from the reflection I can see that I'm bruised and bandaged. I feel no pain, but I'm only strong enough to lift my head when the man I remember from my dreams walks in. Haymitch. He says nothing, only sits down in the chair to my left and stares hard at me. I lay my head back down. We stay like this for many minutes, until Haymitch gets up and leaves in a quiet, calm fashion. He leaves the door open, and a few minutes later, Plutarch walks in.

"I was hoping you were awake. I'm terribly sorry about not receiving you, but when Katniss took out the arena, there was simply no time." he tells me, taking a seat. His voice makes it sound like the pain I was in was just a minor setback. Was he really expecting me to just bounce back? Is it even possible to bounce back at all?

"You left me." I say, closing my eyes. I would glare at him, but I'm too tired.

"We didn't even get all of the tributes out of the arena, could you really expect us to get you?" he says, as if I've said the most ridiculous thing ever. Was I being selfish? Who didn't get out?

"What happened?" I ask. He proceeds to tell me about war erupting between the districts and the Capitol, about how Katniss accepted to be the Mockingjay, and how Peeta was taken and hijacked. How they retrieved him, along with other captives, only a few weeks ago.

"Why didn't they retrieve me as well?" I ask.

"While a part of the rebellion and also a part of Katniss' team, you seemed of little importance, seeing as how Katniss didn't request you. It took a week for District 13 to accept Haymitch's proposal of sending a team out to get you." I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry, but I decide that it would hurt to do either, so I simply open my eyes and stare at Plutarch until he leaves, wishing me a fast recovery. I drift back into sleep again, trying to forget myself just like everybody else has.

When I wake up, Haymitch is sitting back down, hands clasped together. I take a good look at him this time, realizing that he looks much different than the last time I've seen him. He body seems to have a yellowish tint to it, along with an overall sluggish and battered look. There are random cuts and bruises covering his body, along with the same heavy bags under his eyes. Except now, they look even worse.

"You look terrible." I croak out, my throat dry. This brings to my attention the last time I've eaten. When was that again? I deduce that I have to be eating someway, because I'm not hungry. I'll be sure to ask later.

"Says the one in the Hospital Wing." he says.

"How hurt am I?" I ask him. He sighs before scratching his stubbly chin.

"2nd Degree burns that are infected, nerve damage, eye damage, bruised brain, all of that good stuff." My mouth drops open. Am I really that hurt?

"But I don't feel that bad. I can see just fine."

"That would be because you're in a hospital, Princess, under extreme amounts of morphling, and have been undergoing operations for about a week now." I give him a confused look. Has it really been a week? It feels like a few hours.

"What did they do to me?" I whisper.

"They fixed your eyes and burns as soon as you arrived, but the bruised brain and nerve damage are things that take time to get over." I bring a reluctant hand to my mouth, trying to stop my tears. All I manage to do is give myself a headache.

"It was Snow." I manage to say through my sobs. I'm expecting a sarcastic, angry reply, but instead I get something different.

"I know." he says, almost sympathetically. A silence falls over us as I close my eyes, trying to make my headache go away. Although, considering the state Haymitch says I'm in, I guess I should be grateful that's all I have.

"You weren't my first priority when Katniss broke out of the arena." Haymitch tells me after a few more minutes pass.

"I know." I tell him, because I do know. I understand. Katniss and Peeta were, as they should have been. How could I expect anything else? Does he think this makes me mad? I'm far from it. I'm not mad. Mad is an emotion the old, loud Effie had. The Effie that's here now just wants to fade away.

"That doesn't mean you weren't important." he says seriously. I smile.

"I'm not." He can't argue with me on that. In the grand scheme of things, I'm just another person. Nothing special. I wasn't even meant to be saved. I don't ask him why they chose to save me, either. I'm not sure I want to know. Haymitch eyes me curiously.

"Maybe not." he says finally. Surprisingly, his words don't hurt to hear. I seem to have come back with tougher skin than when I left. I accept his words passively, closing my eyes. It's a weird sensation when nothing and everything hurts at the same time. I can hear Haymitch stand up, and when I open one eye I see him leave the room. I sigh.

The days pass on in a blur full of tests, needles, and boring, long hours spent alone. The TV provides some entertainment for a few days, but watching the same programs every day proves to be boring. There are no more visits from Haymitch, and I'm not sure what would be said if he were to show up. There's so much we need to say, yet I know neither of us want to talk about it. The hospital starts lowering my supply of morphling, meaning slight pains here and there. One day, Plutarch comes in to tell me that in the next few days, I should be starting therapy. I have to learn how to walk again, which I think is silly. I'm also unable to lift things heavier than a book.

When my first therapy session comes, I'm more angry at the fact that I can't wait than how weak I am. How could I forget something so simple? My therapist says it's completely physical, that forgetting had nothing to do with it, but I'm still angry. After a few sessions of trying and only falling to my face with little progress, I'm issued a cane. _A cane. _Something only old people are supposed to use, like my grandma when she was alive. Instead of her pink, jeweled cane, however, I'm issued a dull, brown one, much to my chagrin. Needless to say, I haven't been in the best of moods for the past few weeks.

As therapy continues, I'm starting to get better at walking again, but the cane brings forth worries I've overlooked for a while. Where was my family? I think of my Mother, who's lessons I've tried so hard to live by. My Father, who I tried so hard to make proud. My older sister, who was always better. Were they safe, or dead? They would be absolutely shocked and repulsed at where I am now, especially my sister, who married a government official. Where do they think I am now? Do they know who I am? A tortured rebel with a cane. I almost laugh out loud at the thought, but I have a feeling I should be crying about that instead.

"The cane suits you." a voice behind me says one day as I'm walking around my hospital bed. Plutarch informed me that District 13 aren't too pleased at my extended stay, but with Plutarch's urging and their lack of things for a person who's learning how to walk to do and lack of places to put them leaves them no other option.

"I think so, too." I say sarcastically, slowly turning around to see an amused Haymitch leaning in the doorway.

"Shouldn't you be out of here by now?" he asks, and I roll my eyes.

"They have nowhere else to put me." Haymitch smirks, and a part of me that's not exactly dead inside, or angry, has the urge to smile, too. But I don't. I frown, looking at my cane.

"I can't believe I'm learning how to walk again. What a stupid thing to learn." I tell him sadly. Haymitch scoffs.

"You should be lucky you still have your legs. There are some who aren't so lucky." he tells me, my cheeks starting to feel hot. He's right. Again. How ungrateful can I possibly be?

"You're right, I'm sorry." I apologize, but Haymitch just shrugs.

"Not our problem." he says, putting his hands into his pockets. "There are bigger things that need to be done. Things that require your assistance. Hurry up." I open my mouth, offended.

"How dare you tell me to hurry up! What a completely insensitive thing to say to a person who's trying to walk again. You _would_ say something so-"

"Good, you're becoming more you already. Get to it." he interrupts. I scoff as he walks out of my room. Instead of trying to think of what just happened, I decide to slowly climb my way into my hospital bed, telling myself that I'll handle what he said later. I get too overwhelmed over such little things these days, the walking has already worn me out. But, as I drift off into sleep, I realize that he's right. Bigger things do need to be done, and if I can, I want to be a part of it. I just need to get out of the hospital wing first.


	21. Heels

**Chapter 21: Heels**

"Walk to me." Haymitch says, standing by the door and holding my cane in one hand.

"I can't." I tell him. He rolls his eyes.

"Here's how this is going to work, Princess. You can either walk over here and get your cane or I can throw it away. My patience is running thin today."

"Nobody asked you to come help me." I grumble as I lift myself off my bed, shakily making my way toward him. I snatch my cane out of his hand when I get to him, shooting him a mean look. I know he's trying to help, but I've been in a sour mood for a few days now.

"Good." Haymitch says, leaving the room and coming back a few minutes later with a pair of heels in his hand. "Now, with these." I gasp.

"They're beautiful." I say, feeling the shoes. The old Effie wouldn't think so, with their tattered edges and dull, dirty, purple color, but the new Effie is pleasantly surprised. Since I've been rescued, the only thing I've worn is a hospital sheet. I get a clean one every two and a half weeks(I would love one sooner that that, but District 13 has a disturbingly strict policy with waste), but I've longed for actual clothes. A materialistic characteristic of mine that hasn't died, I guess.

"I don't know if they'll fit." Haymitch says as he hands me the heels to put on. With a little bit of force, I manage to squeeze my foot into the shoes. It's not exactly comfortable, and with my shopping experience I guess that they're about two sizes too small, but they'll do. They're going to have to.

"I'll be okay." I say as Haymitch reaches his arms out, giving me something to lean on as I get up. I'm wobbly in them even though I stand still, which makes me feel like I'm 13 again. I tighten my grip on Haymitch's outstretched arms, walking forward as he walks backward. The shoes hurt even more to walk in, but I don't dare be rude and say anything about it. Not after thinking about how much this must have been to get this pair in the first place. We walk slowly like that around the small room, and I start giggling as we do so. I don't know when I started giggling, but I can't stop, and it blooms into full blown laughter as Haymitch leads me to the bed so I can sit down.

"This is amazing. Thank you, Haymitch." I say sincerely. He gives me a strange look.

"They're just shoes, woman. I didn't know you'd get so happy." I smile.

"Did Plutarch give you these?" I ask. Haymitch nods, putting his hands in his pockets. I take the heels off, giving my feet a break from the tight space.

"Is the war almost over?" Haymitch considers his answer.

"If I were an optimist, I'd say the end is in sight. But being the pessimist I am, I'd say no." I give him a half smile.

"Finnick and Annie got married a few days ago." Haymitch tells me, which brightens me up a little.

"Really? How sweet! What a happy occasion for such a strict district. I'm almost surprised they let them have one." I say, which makes Haymitch smirk.

"They also cut my alcohol." he says, which makes it my turn to smirk. "This is what happens when you get involved with people, Princess. They take your alcohol and make you socialize."

"I bet it's been hard." I say, half sarcastic, half actually caring.

"I'm alive, aren't I?" he says. We make eye contact and I give him a sympathetic smile.

"I suppose you are."

The next few weeks pass by faster than usual, with Haymitch being around very little. He lets me keep the heels, though, so I practice walking in them everyday with my cane. I become proficient enough to walk with only a little help from my cane, so I'm issued out of the hospital, getting assigned a small room for myself. It's dull and bare except for a few pieces of furniture, but I like it a lot more than the hospital room. I'm issued a pair of hand me down clothes, a gray shirt that's a little bigger than I am and a pair of gray pants to match. The brown shoes I get are the only pop of color, besides my tattered heels Haymitch got me.

I settle in quietly, sometimes talking to Plutarch but mostly following the schedule on my arm. In my free time I usually practice in my heels, which are still giving me trouble to walk in alone. But, by the time I have my next conversation with Haymitch, I have the hang of it.

"I need you." he says, making me jump. When did he get here?

"For what?" I ask, feeling myself get a little red.

"Snow's execution. It's soon. Katniss is going to do it, and I offered for you to be the one to plan everything." he explains, and I slowly process the information.

"Will it be over then?" I ask.

"Pretty much. Did you get the news?" Haymitch asks. I shake my head. It takes a few minutes for Haymitch to answer.

"Prim's dead." For a few seconds I don't know who that is, but when I do, my heart drops. Katniss' first reaping flashes in my head, and I see the small, blond haired girl in my mind. Her screams for Katniss fill my ears. Katniss' interview replays in my mind. _Her name's Prim, and she's just twelve_.

"How? But Katniss... how?" is all I manage to say before putting a hand over my mouth.

"She was a rebel nurse. Got caught in the bombing of the City Circle." he explains. Tears well up in my eyes for numerous reasons. Bombing of the City Circle? How have I missed this piece of information? What has become of my family? Just a few days ago, we got word that Finnick died. Now Prim, too? How is Katniss taking it? Is Peeta even there to help her?

"I don't even know what to say." I admit, exasperated. Haymitch frowns. "Is Katniss going to be okay?"

"She'll survive, that's about it. We'll all survive, Princess. But I can't say anything about the state we'll be in while we do." he tells me. "Can you do it?"

"Yes." I say, barely audible. "Are there any Capitol survivors?" Haymitch gives me a weird look.

"Those were my people, Haymitch. I know you don't understand, but I grew up around those places. Those people. No matter how corrupt. I have family, too, you know." I tell him angrily. Haymitch sighs.

"Well hell, Princess, I don't know. Capitol citizens aren't my top priority." This time I sigh, closing my eyes. I don't want to admit that his comment sort of hurt, even though I knew it was true before he said it.

"I'll be sure to organize things as much as I can. Goodbye, Haymitch." I say, opening my eyes. Haymitch nods. He leaves the room, leaving me to my own thoughts. I close my eyes again, only to see my family in my head. My Mother and Father, my sister and her family. I see Dieter and Julietta Pillaway, my sister's two kids, the most.

The day I see Katniss comes quickly, which hits me with a fit of worry. Over the past week, I've organized as much as I was allowed and was even given a new wardrobe, much to my complete happiness, but nothing could prepare me to see her. Haymitch won't give me any full account about Peeta, only saying that he was doing "well enough" which doesn't satisfy me at all. As to Katniss, he has said even less to her emotional status.

I direct Katniss to get ready when I see her, taking in her pitiful, scarred body. I decide early on that it's best to stay as unattached as possible, for fear of not being professional on such an important day. The day my prediction will come true. Katniss is going to kill Snow. I can't say I'm sad to see him go. When we get to the place where the execution is happening, I take my seat and wait patiently as I watch Coin have a discussion with the victors present. The only victors left. It pains me not to see more of them there, especially Finnick, who had such little time with Annie. Rumors are saying she's pregnant, which leaves me sad and worried, as well as happy. I notice Peeta, who seems to be looking stable, until I see him start shouting at the others around him. What were they discussing?

I eye Haymitch curiously when I see everybody near him looking intensely at him as well. He says something I'm too far away to hear, and after a few more words from Coin, she leaves. I make a mental note to ask Haymitch what that was all about later, if I get the chance to see him. Haymitch and I make eye contact for about a second before he turns away, a expression I can't place on his face. After a brief opening statement, Katniss fixes her bow on Snow. I intensely watch her, and just as I raise my hands to clap, I watch the arrow pierce Coin, making her fall over the balcony. I gasp audibly.


	22. Family Matters

**Chapter 22: Family Matters**

"I'll be sure to send whatever is needed, all you have to do is call." I tell Haymitch, who I know would only call if he were in desperate need of liquor. Haymitch nods, grabbing the slip of paper with my number on it from my hand. "Take care of them, Haymitch." I say seriously. He nods again.

"They're not going to ever get fully better, Princess." Haymitch says, and I purse my lips, unsure of what to say. "Well, still. Please keep in touch." I say, making him raise an eyebrow. I know he won't, but I decided to at least ask. I neglect to mention how much I would miss him, honestly miss them all, and all the excuses I've made up in my mind as to why I couldn't live with them. They wouldn't want me to, anyway. Not yet. Not while their home was in shambles. But what about my home?

We stare at each other for a few minutes before I decide to bring up the elephant in the room. Or, at least, one of them. "I can't believe you voted for another Games." Haymitch sighs, scratching his chin.

"I had to." he says, which I count as an insufficient answer. The public knows about the Games that were to start in a few days, but they've kept confidential which of the Victor's actually voted to have them. I only know because of Plutarch, who informed me in secrecy. Plutarch and I have been working closely together since the war's end, with him letting me host my own fashion program that's set to air soon. He even asked me to be an escort for the last Games, but I turned the job down. How could I agree to that?

"I understand." I say to him, then kiss both of his cheeks in goodbye. As he goes to walk out of the door, I tell him to wait as I give him one last hug, making Haymitch groan in impatience.

"For crying out loud, woman. Are you even going to let me leave?" he mumbles as we hug, making tears well up in my eyes. Instead of letting them fall, however, I swallow hard and pull away smiling.

"Say you'll miss me." I tell him, grabbing one of his hands. Haymitch rolls his eyes and groans again. "Say it and you can leave." Haymitch eyes me for a few seconds before yanking his hand away. I glare at him as he leaves, and after I sink down into a nearby chair. With him and Katniss gone and with Plutarch visiting in 3, I had nobody to talk to in the New Capitol where I'm staying. This leaves me to face the thoughts I have been putting off since the war's end, filling me with panic.

Where was my family? I contemplate on whether I deserve to even find them or not, considering that I've put them on the backburner for so long. Especially during the war. I decide that I don't, but I want to find them anyway. People get things they don't deserve all the time, right? With that out of the way of my thoughts, the thing that sets me into a panic comes to the forefront of my mind. There's a very good possibility they could already be dead. Even lovely Julietta and Dieter Pillaway, kids who were barely in their teens. Statistics show that most of the Capitol kids were wiped out just as much as the adults, if not more. Were Dieter and Julietta part of that statistic?

My answer comes days later, and it's much more horrible that anything I could have imagined. I stop all of my work when I see it, crying and screaming almost immediately. There, on my TV screen, I see Julietta in an interview as one of the tributes for the last Hunger Games. It takes all of my energy to not faint. My mind is in a whirl of panic and horror as I shout questions in my head, running as quickly as I can on my still slightly damaged legs to Plutarch's office. It's there, when he pulls me into his private office since his main office is being occupied by dozens of people there to watch the Games with him, that I get my answers.

"That's my niece! She's only 13!" I say, half screaming and half sobbing. Plutarch gives me a flabberghasted look. "What? Did you not think I had family?" Collecting his face, Plutarch gives me an answer.

"Well, would you mind being interviewed if she were to make it to the final 8?" he asks cautiously. I stop sobbing to glare at him, my blood boiling.

"I want her out. Now. Do it, Plutarch!" I scream, pounding on the table. By now I'm sure I look like a wreck, and all of my reservations were lost the moment I saw her on the screen. I'm sure I've scared him before he gives me a confused, then amused, look.

"You can't take a contest out of the Hunger Games, Effie." Plutarch laughs, "How ridiculous. Now, I know, by family attachment, you can't possibly see the advantages of having these Games. But I'll let you know, these last Games make sure that the Hunger Games are never to happen again. Cheer up, Effie." Plutarch walks over to rub my back. "She might win." I look up to glare at him again. I can't even comprehend what goes on in his head.

"Where's the rest of my family? Where's Julietta's brother?" I scream, and he takes his hand off my back to shrug his shoulders.

"To be fair, Effie, I have no clue who you're talking about." he says, sitting back down at his desk.

"Dieter Pillaway was her brother. Her Father was a Government official. Philipe Pillaway. Her Mother was-"

"Jewel Pillaway. Yes, I know who you're on about now." Pluatch interrupts. "I'm sorry to tell you, but Philipe was executed not too long ago. However, his wife might still be alive. As for this boy, that's something I couldn't possibly know. Adolescent deaths were way too high to possibly identify every single one of them." My heart that was just racing with an anger I've never felt before is subdued by heartbreak. The news of Philipe's execution and of Dieter and Jewel's possible death as well makes my enitre body hurt with grief. I'm about to completely break down before I remember more people who are important to me.

"What about my parents?" I ask, barely audible. Plutarch thinks for a moment.

"Were they of old age?" he asks. I run through my brain, trying to remember through the weight of grief how old they would be by now. I can't seem to remember my Father's age, but I somehow remember that today, my Mother would be in her early 60s. I tell this to Plutarch, who gives me a sympathic look.

"My best guess would be that the stress of the war would have been too much for them. That was the case for many of the older generations in the Capitol, and even the Districts. I'm terribly sorry, Effie." I note in my head how completely stupid he looks feeling sorry for the things he can't change, yet not changing the things he can so as to not make the suffering worse. I manage to get information on where Jewel would be staying, and I don't even make it home before I start sobbing again.

I think of my parents, who were always very demanding but loving. I think of Jewel, and how we would sometimes stay up late talking about the bright futures we had for ourselves. I was always the self-sufficient one, with Jewel's main goal being to find a hardworking man and then raising a family. However, with the war, I see I'm not self-sufficent at all. I think of Dieter, always so smart and noble, and of lovely Julietta, whose love of animals and fashion were always something I loved to discuss with her at family gatherings. How were these things supposed to help her in the arena?

Kids of the Capitol were quite obviously spoiled, but some of them took great interest in the Games, sometimes even wishing they were allowed to participate themselves for the excitement of it all. None of them realizing what it actually takes to kill another person, and how it changes you afterward. I've seen this first hand with Katniss and Peeta, who were so innocent before all of what has happened. How was Julietta supposed to compete with those other kids?

The TV pulls me out of my contemplation with the mention of a familiar name. Of course, they were all familiar, but this one really stands out. I look at the screen to see a well-fed but skinny looking boy talking to Caesar Flickerman, a person I'm surprised survived the war. His green, spiky hair would have let me recognize him immediately if his name already didn't. Oriah Tinselton.

"I imagine you'll do everything in your power to get home again." Caesar says to him, putting a hand on Oriah's knee. Something about Caesar's eyes makes me think that everything's not exactly there anymore, but I focus on Oriah's face, which is red from trying to hold back tears. I think back to the day, so long ago now it seems, that he asked Haymitch for his autograph. How he was so amazed by him. I watch the rest of the interview in tears, finding out at the end that he had only just turned 12. Just barely eligible to be in the Hunger Games. Now Julietta was going to have to kill him to stay alive. Deciding I can't bare to stand this horrible catastrophe alone anymore, I try to find Jewel. I decide that while my world is already falling apart, I might as well get the full story. I need to know who from my family survived.

Plutarch's information about where she's staying is out of date, making me search for about an hour for the shelter she's now staying at. I decided at my house to go without the make up and wig, making me feel naked as I walk down the halls for Jewel's room.

"Jewel?" my voice breaks as I take in the hunched over ball in the corner of the barely lit room. She lifts her head, letting me take in her tired face, making her look a lot older than she is. She squints before her eyes show recognition, making me think that I probably look a lot older than I am, too. She doesn't say anything, but I sit on the edge of the bed she's curled up in. It's a simple, creaky cot, with stained sheets. It's obviously soiled, but I sit anyway. Ever since my torture, I've grown to be less squirmish. The smell triggers memories from my torture, but I do my best to swallow them down.

"What happened to Mom and Dad? Or Dieter?" I ask gently. She looks at me with curious eyes before they cloud up with grief. In that second, I know the answer. Even though tears fall down my face, I try to keep my face composed. I need to know how this happened.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I keep my gentle tone of voice. Jewel shakes her head and buries it back into her knees. How long has she been in that position? I purse my lips and swallow hard.

"I need to know what happened, Jewel. Please tell me?" I ask, more stern this time. She pops her head up again and mouths one word, over and over again. It takes me a minute before I figure out what she's saying. _Dead. _I swallow hard again.

"How?" I raise my voice. I feel like Haymitch with the way my patience is running thin, especially on such a horrible topic. His name passing through my mind breaks the barrier I had, a barrier I put there so as to not think of him, which makes my heart rate pick up and my cheeks flush. Even through unimaginable grief, he can still get a rise out of me.

"Dieter. Bombed." Jewel says, breaking me from my thoughts. My eyes widen for a second before I close them, lowering my head. I know what she's trying to say. Dieter _was_ part of the statistic I was so afraid of. 75% of kids were caught in bombs dropped on the Capitol, with adults following close behind at 69%. I stare at my older sister for a few minutes, wondering what has happened to her. The answer hits me like a pile of bricks. Life happened to her. Life interrupted by war, causing unrepairable grief. It happened to all of us. Haymitch's words ring in my head. _We'll all survive, Princess. But I can't say anything about the state we'll be in while we do._

"What about Mom and Dad?" I ask, knowing it's no use trying to comfort her about Dieter. Perhaps that would only make it worse.

It takes Jewel a long time to answer, and when she does, there's tears in her eyes. "Couldn't take it." I sigh, more tears streaming down my face. So Plutarch was right. I want to ask her more questions, such as what happened to her and if she's even aware that Julietta was taken from her to be in the Hunger Games, but instead I take in how much she has changed. How much we've both changed. I used to look up to Jewel so much for being the perfect student, the perfect lady. This can't be the same woman.

After I rub Jewel's back for some time, reflecting on everything that has happened, I decide it's time to leave. And as much as I would like to, and as much as I know I should, I doubt I'll be back. There's nothing here for me except the hallow, pitiful shell of a once beautiful, happy woman. The shame I felt for thinking that, along with my overwhelming grief, weighed on me as I went home, and even after I got there.

I fall asleep on my bed reluctantly, knowing that I'll only wake up again from nightmares. When I do, I drag myself to my bathroom, looking for sleeping pills. After popping them into my mouth, I'm too tired to make my way back to my bedroom, so I settle for sleeping on my bathroom floor. When I awake the next day, I can tell from the light in my apartment that it's passed morning. With my TV still on in the living room, I hear two canon fires. Panic tears through me as I scramble to the TV, only to find that 14 are already dead. As I see Julietta's picture on the side of the screen with a red X over it, I swear somebody punches me in the ribs. Or, I wish they did, because that would hurt a lot less.


	23. Fine Alone, Fine Together

**Chapter 23: Fine Alone, Fine Together**

I watch numbly as Oriah Tinselton wins the final Hunger Games just by hiding from the others. The Games were pathetic to watch, only lasting two days. The arena was a forest full of deadly animals, most of which tore the kids apart as soon as the pathetic bloodbath at the cornucopia was over. It was obvious the kids didn't know how to handle even the most simple of weapons. They pull Oriah from the bushes he was hiding in, looking dehydrated and small, and I turn off the TV before I have time to feel sorry for him.

Julietta Pillaway was one of the unlucky ones, who while wondering frantically through the woods was caught by a pack of muttations. There was no body to recover. I start to take my grief out in my work, working overtime much to Plutarch's pleasure. For the first few months, he's still sour about the pathetic turnout of the final Hunger Games, but he soon focuses on creating his own TV Network.

Style and Glamour, or S&G as it's commonly called, is a hit in the New Capitol. It rises on the charts, receiving some of the highest ratings on Plutarch's Network. I decide to ignore the fact that it's partly because I was a Capitol Rebel, and an escort in the Hunger Games and pretend that it's based solely on my talent for fashion. The media stretches the truth too far about my involvement in the Rebellion. They like to pretend that I was in the grand scheme of things, when in reality the most notable thing I did was prepare Katniss on the day she assassinated Coin. I get a lot of questions about her, and about Peeta, but I respect them both by not answering any of them. I sometimes get questions about Haymitch, which sets my whole body on fire, but I decide not to answer them either. However, not a day goes by where I don't think of that whole team. Cinna and Portia, too. In fact, one of my best shows to date is the episode where I honored their works.

The years pass, with S&G's ratings staying high. I direct a number of game shows, as well as a sitcom that Plutarch and I work on together. Not getting a single call from Haymitch, Peeta, or Katniss, I still sometimes send my love in letters which get no reply. My assistant must think it a very sad thing, never getting a reply, but I don't mind. In fact, I expect it, especially from Haymitch, so imagine my surprise when about 5 years after the war, I get a reply from Peeta. It's a short letter, basically thanking me for escorting him and Katniss, so I write him back telling him that he should know it was no problem at all. That's the only reply I ever got from the 3 of them, so I make sure to never lose it, even when I move into a bigger house.

It's sort of useless, moving into a bigger house when there's only me, but it was Plutarch's gift to me for a job well done. I soon find out that's not the only reason when a year later, almost 7 years after the war, he proposes to me. It lacks romance entirely, him bringing it up as merely a strategic business move, telling me that if we were to combine our assets and start a family, the Heavensbee's would be a rich and powerful family for generations to come. He seems sure that I wouldn't say no, so the fact that I do leaves him disgruntled. How he thought I could ever say yes is beyond me. His aromantic proposal seems to be the last straw, letting me know something that I was thinking of for a few years now. It was time to leave. This place held too many memories, and the people have no real substance. _I_ have no real substance.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Plutarch asks me gently when I inform him of my thoughts.

"This place and these people are becoming unbearable. I'm unhappy." I tell him. Plutarch frowns.

"You will be dearly missed, Effie. But one question. Where are you expecting to go? Do you want me to buy you a house in 4, something by the water?" I smile politely.

"Maybe. If Plan A doesn't work out. Thank you, Plutarch." I say sincerely. Because like him or not, he was a huge reason for my success. My survival. I hug him tightly after he assures me that anything I need will be available to me, within reason.

Handing the show over to Plutarch to do with it what he will, I pack only a small suitcase of my things. Leaving the wigs, heavy make-up, and (most of) the extravagant clothes behind, I send one last message to District 12, this time only for Haymitch: _See you soon._

Perfecting my ponytail holding my natural, blonde hair, I step off the train to see District 12 in all of its sad glory. What I expected, I don't know, but it's not what I get when I see the district. It's much better off than it was during the Old Capitol's reign by far, but you can tell there is still a long way to go. Determined, I walk to the cleanest spot in the district: Victor's Village. I get stares as I make my way there, and I figure it's because I'm an outsider. I don't belong here. So what on Earth was I doing here? Passing the local school house, I get a toothy smile from a little boy with dirty skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. I smile back. Only two houses are lit in Victor's Village, which leaves me to wonder why they wouldn't use the other ten. Or where the other Victor was. I spot patches of flowers growing around one of the lit houses, and instinctively I know that that's not Haymitch's house. I knock on the door of the other house, the one with a wrecked yard and animal feed surrounding it, but I get no answer. I knock again. No answer. Knock knock. No answer. After a few more knocks, Haymitch finally opens the door. His greeting words to me are predictable.

"Go away, I'm trying to sleep." I try to smile, but a frown forms instead. Before I can think twice, the words tumble out of my mouth.

"My whole family is dead." Haymitch, who was previously glaring at me with glazed over eyes, raises an eyebrow.

"So are mine," Haymitch says, "Not my problem." Haymitch walks into the house, leaving me standing in the open doorway. Taking this as a sign to come in, I walk in to his foul smelling home. My eyes sting as I take in the scent around me, filled with the most awful odor I've ever smelt in my life. I'd rather sit in my own urine again. Frown never leaving my face, I look at Haymitch, who is now stumbling around the house looking for something. After placing my suitcase down, I leave the house to catch fresh air. Walking back inside but leaving the door open, I attempt to clean up his place while he cracks open a new bottle of liquor. I work silently, and he puts the bottle down occasionally to help me lift heavy pieces of furniture when he sees me struggle. A few hours later, Haymitch leaves the house and comes back with more liquor, fresh bread, fresh sheets, and a few bottles of wine. He sets the bread, sheets, and wine in front of me before putting his liquor in his stash.

"More alcohol. How considerate of you." I say sarcastically. Haymitch shrugs his shoulders.

"Least I could do, I guess." says Haymitch. I sigh.

"I don't know my way around, so I'll need you to do the shopping for now." I tell him, giving him a piece of paper. "I've made a list of things we'll need. I don't know if they'll have them all here, but I'd appreciate at least trying to get them."

"Excuse me, Princess?" Haymitch says. He looks like I've just spoken another language. He stares at me, then the list, then me again, then the list, before speaking.

"You're not staying here." says Haymitch. I frown.

"Yes, I am. Honestly, Haymitch, do you not read any of the letters I send? Don't make this difficult." I say, not sure if he would actually kick me out. I start to wonder about that condo I was promised in 4. Haymitch grabs my arm, letting the list fall to the floor.

"You are not staying here." he repeats, this time more lethal. We lock eye contact, and I hope with everything I have he can't see the grief I'm hiding. The grief I've been hiding for about 7 years now, wanting to come out but always burying it underneath long work nights and smiles. He notices. Or, at least, I'm sure he does, because I can't think of any other reason why he lets me go.

"You know, Princess, I was fine without you here." Haymitch says, and I don't doubt it. I see Haymitch in my mind, carrying on the same old way.

"I know." I say, locking eyes with him again. "So I suppose you'll be fine with me here, too."

If I'm not mistaken, I see Haymitch's mouth twitch, but he keeps his straight face.

"Good to see you, Princess." I give him a small smile.


	24. Nightmares & Withdrawal

**Chapter 24: Nightmares & Withdrawals**

A light flickers on and off. On and off. On. Off. Faster. Faster. A figure is getting close to me, standing over me. I can't move, I can barely breathe. The lights stop flickering and stay off, but I can feel the figure looking down at me. Slowly their face starts to take form, and I realize it's Julietta. Lovely, pretty Julietta. She smiles at me wickedly as a sharp pain runs through my body. A familiar pain. The shocks keep coursing through me, and somehow I end up drenched in water. That's when the burns start. I scream out in horror as Jewel appears, ripping the very flesh off of me. I scream at her to stop, but she doesn't listen.

Suddenly I'm falling, and where I land is somewhere familiar, I just can't put my finger on it. I spot Katniss talking to Plutarch and run up to them, only to have another sharp pain run through my body. This is different, though. This is only in my chest. I'm struggling to breathe as I turn around, finding Haymitch holding a bloody knife. His expression is of pure hatred. I gasp for air as an invisible force pushes me into the walls, but I can clearly see Haymitch saying something. As I take my last breath, I realize what he's saying. _Wake up._

"Damn it." Haymitch yells as I open my eyes, terrified. I'm shaking and crying as Haymitch forcefully pushes the straps of my nightgown down.

"Calm down, Princess. You need to calm down. I'm not going to hurt you, damn." Haymitch yells, holding my arms down. I'm screaming now, not understanding why he would be doing this.

"Effie, calm down. I can't help you if you're fighting. You're hurt. You're bleeding." Haymitch yells again, and after repeating himself, the words start to register in my brain. I'm bleeding? I stop resisting and open my eyes. Haymitch lets me go and gathers something off of the ground as I lean myself up to look at my chest, only to find my arms and chest covered with bloody scratch marks. My nails have half-dried blood under them, and the polish is obviously chipped.

"Can you stay calm now?" Haymitch asks with an annoyed tone, but before I can answer he's already applying ointment on my cuts. I stare at Haymitch, taking in every detail of his face. I've never seen him so fully focused on something before. I notice his furrowed eyebrows, the way his mouth is slightly open, and how from time to time he brings his tongue up to his top lip. I notice how his grey eyes have little brown flecks in them, the way they look so intense, and how his nostrils are slightly flared.

Katniss enters my room sometime later, syringe in hand. She's looking at me with a perplexed expression, and I only have a few minutes to stare back at her before I feel a pinch in my arm. Soon everything fades into black.

Waking up from a dreamless slumber, I find myself in a blue, scratchy shirt many sizes too big for me. Lifting it up, I examine my chest and my arms. They're mostly healed, except for a few that were especially deep. I find it hard to believe my nails could actually do this much damage. I get up and walk to the bathroom, only to wish I hadn't. My hair was full of knots so huge that it made me wanna cry just thinking about brushing them out.

I've almost entered the doorway to the living room when I realize that I've no pants on. Just what I woke up in. _A lady should always look presentable_. One of the first rules of etiquette. Of fashion. After a moment of contemplating, I run on tiptoes to my room again, quickly slipping on the only pair of shorts I packed. Oh well, I think. This will have to do. Knowing Haymitch won't care in the slightest about what I'm wearing makes me feel a little better, but not much.

"So the Princess finally makes her entrance." says Haymitch as I walk in the room. "You know, the world has a sense of humor in the way that the one person who hates life has to put so much energy into keeping other people alive." I purse my lips.

"What happened?" I ask, folding my arms.

"You left the window open in your room, and you were screaming so loud you woke up the whole damn neighborhood." Haymitch explains. "AKA, Katniss and Peeta." I smile slightly, despite myself.

"Peeta came over to see what was the matter, which prompted me to go take a look myself. Good thing, too. When I came in there you were clawing yourself up. So I told Peeta to go get something to sedate you while I handled the rest. Katniss ended up bringing it."

"I see." I say, concerned. "I think my nightmares are getting worse." I feel a little embarrassed by admitting that to him, but I figure he should know. Just in case it happens again.

"They always do." says Haymitch, which doesn't make me feel better at all. I start to roll up the sleeves of my oversized shirt only to see that the blood was still under my nails. I sigh.

"Thank you." I tell him.

"For what?" Haymitch grunts.

"For not undermining me and asking me what I could possibly have nightmares about." I say genuinely. Haymitch shrugs.

"We've all been through a lot. Even you." he walks over to his stash of liquor. Feeling the summer sunshine shine down on my legs through the windows, I cover the bottle of liquor he's about to drink with my hand.

"Stay sober today. I need you." I say, then realizing what I just said, I clarify. "Having company helps. Just humor me for one day." Haymitch eyes me, considering my words. It was a spur of the moment decision to ask him, and it's a long shot thinking that he would agree. But surprisingly, he does.

"What's there to do, then?" he asks, putting the liquor back up. I look around, nothing coming to mind.

"I dont know. Enjoy life?" I ask, holding my arms out then dropping them.

"What's there to enjoy?" Again, I'm at a loss for ideas. What _is_ there to enjoy?

"Each other's company, I suppose." I say, sitting on one side of the chess table. "Come on, Haymitch. Teach me how to play." Haymitch smirks and sits down on the other side.

The next two hours go by with Haymitch teaching me how to play chess, and then playing games with me. Haymitch always wins, of course, but as the games go on I start to improve.

"You know, I think you could have been a genius. In another life, or if you were born in the Capitol. You wouldn't have to bother with drinking. You wouldn't have bad memories either, except for stupid ones." I say to him during his move. Haymitch doesn't look up, but he has an amused expression on his face.

"What about you?" he asks, still studying the board that was obviously in his favor.

"What about me?" I ask defensively.

"You were born in the Capitol. Obviously that didn't matter during the war. And, if you've forgotten, there are plenty of drunk people in the Capitol. People who've had it better than me their whole life, yet still do the same thing I do." I tilt my head, unsure of what to say. Yet again, he's right.

"Well, like I said. Maybe in another life." I say in a small voice. Haymitch moves his chess piece.

"I also wasn't aware there was such a thing as stupid bad memories." says Haymitch. I nod, smiling.

"I have a lot of them. Like one time, in Games School, when I was training to become an escort, my teacher read one of my papers out loud as an example of what not to do. It was completely humiliating. Usually I was really good at school work, I was even Student Body President in high school, but my sister was getting married that week and I spent all of my time focused on planning for that. I completely misread the assignment. It used to be my worst memory, until I realized that there are far, far, far worst things in life than having a few people laugh at you because of a piece of paper." I tell him, ready for him to laugh at such a stupid story. Haymitch smiled bitterly.

"Along with women's nails, I've learned not to underestimate the power of a piece of paper. Hundreds of innocent people's lives were ruined by pieces of paper." Haymitch says. I frown. Wanting to comforting Haymitch but not knowing what to say, I do what feels right. I lean across the table and give Haymitch a peck on the lips, too quick for him to pull away. Haymitch cocks an eyebrow. I give him a small smile, moving one of my chess pieces. We continue playing as if nothing happened.

The rest of the day goes on, with Haymitch and I doing odd things to keep us busy. Haymitch listens to me explain some of the TV programs that we watch, and sometimes I even get a single chuckle from the comments I make about the people on screen. We try our hand at baking, but end up overcooking the cake by a few minutes. We eat it anyways, well aware that we could have just asked Peeta to an actually good cake.

"Sorry to break it to you, Princess, but it's time for the booze to come out. I can't handle nights without a bottle." Haymitch says to me when the sun starts to set. I frown as he gets up from the couch and takes as many bottles as he can hold.

"Try not to stratch yourself too bad." Haymitch says, lifting a bottle as if to say goodnight.

"It's not like you would be sober enough to help if I did." I say, slightly bitter.

"Another reason not to do it, then. I can't have you bleeding to death in this house, it's bad for my image. Try doing that at Peeta's." Haymitch says sarcastically, walking towards his room.

"I wouldn't bleed to death!" I yell as Haymitch closes the door. After cleaning up around the house, I reluctantly head upstairs to deal with my own nightmares. As a precaution, and to avoid going to sleep, I search for a nail file and slim down my nails. When I'm done, I slip into bed, hoping for good dreams. Something I don't get.

After being woken up for the third time, I silently walk to Haymitch's room. Upon entering, I see Haymitch's drunken figure sprawled on his stomach, and I wrinkle my nose at the sight. After going back to my room to supply myself with pillows and blankets, I make a small pallet on the floor and doze off in no time. After being woken up a fourth time, I find that it doesn't stop or lessen my nightmares, but the assurance that I'm not alone helps when I wake up afterwards. I have a strong feeling I'm not supposed to be comforted by the fact that the only person I'm near is a passed out drunk, but it's someone, nonetheless. It's much better than waking up in a big house alone and afraid.

The nights continue on as such, with me sneaking into Haymitch's room in the middle of the night. We never say anything about it, not even when on one particularly bad night, when a thunderstorm was raging, I climbed into his bed beside him. Lightening was something I still felt uneasy around. There were some nights that I had good dreams, but I can tell Haymitch has no such luck.

"Why do you never have good dreams?" I asked him one day.

"Because I never left the arena." Haymitch says. "I'm still in the Games in my head. Always in the Games. More than twenty five years and I still can't get out." I look at him with sad eyes. Not knowing what to say, I hop out my chair and give him a quick peck on the lips. Haymitch looks unamused.

"That supposed to help?"

"No," I tell him, "I just didn't know what to say. That's all." Haymitch gives me a smug look as he sips his alcohol.

The days pass, and a truly awful week comes where Haymitch seems to have run out of liquor. I tell Katniss and Peeta, who are far more well-equipped with handling him during withdrawal than I am, but their stash runs out in three days.

"He seems to be handling it better than he did before his stay in 13." Katniss tells me when she visits, and we both look over at Haymitch. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's been in the same hunched over position at the table for a few hours, twitching and jerking often. His skin also takes on a yellowish tint, the same shade he had when I first saw him in the hospital.

"I'd hate to see him handling this badly." I say.

"Peeta's promised to stop by every day until the new shipment arrives." Katniss says, and on the inside I'm forever grateful. The simplest word can set him off, as I've so experienced when he used the most colorful language I've ever heard when I told him I was going to buy some things at The Hob. After that, I've decided to stop talking to him.

"Has he fed the geese yet?" Katniss asks. I give her a strange look.

"Geese?"

"Haymitch usually raises geese while waiting for more alcohol." I nod, putting the pieces together in my head. So that's where Haymitch goes off to all of the time.

"Yes, I suppose he has. At least, that's where I assume he's always going off to." Katniss nods and bends down to sling her game bag over her shoulder.

"He'll just be an even bigger wreck than usual until the shipment arrives. You should look into having one of the other houses in Victor's Village. They're all open, except for 3, but I don't even live in mine anymore. I mostly stay at Peeta's." says Katniss. I purse my lips.

"Why haven't other people taken up residence here?" I ask. Katniss shrugs her shoulders.

"Peeta and Greasy Sae says it's a sign of respect. You're part of the team, though, so I doubt anyone will mind." I shake my head and look at the floor as Katniss and I walk outside.

"I was only an escort."

"An escort that kept both of us alive through two Games. You never really got a proper thank you, Effie, but we really are thankful." Peeta says, walking up to us. Peeta slips his hand into Katniss', smiling at her.

"Well you're most certainly welcome!" I feel certain that I'm blushing. After bidding them both a goodbye, I go back inside and into my room, where I've spent the majority of my time since Haymitch's withdrawal attacks. Sometimes, when I make my way into the kitchen, he calls me by names I've never heard before, asking me where I've been, why I won't leave him alone, and that he's sorry. I want to comfort him, but instead I stay silent and rush back to my room before he has the chance to see me cry. Maybe I just might take up Katniss on her offer after all.


	25. Endings

**Chapter 25: Endings**

Weeks, months, years pass, and Haymitch and I fall into a dysfunctional rhythm. We grow together, then apart, then closer than before. I write scripts for shows Plutarch sends me, as well as become a nurse at one of District 12's newly opened hospitals. During training, the blood and gory sights I would witness would rattle me, sometimes making me cry, but Haymitch was always there to assure me that I can pull through it.

"You're Effie Trinket." Haymitch had said. "What the hell can't you do once you set your mind to it? You're the most annoyingly determined woman I know."

"What about Katniss?" I asked.

"Yeah, well, she would be, if she knew what she was doing half of the time." I didn't ask him to elaborate on what he meant by that, but instead sulked up to my room to study for my exam. Remembering Haymitch's words in my head, I passed exceptionally well. When I told Haymitch, he handed me a bottle of whiskey in congratulations. On an impulsive decision, I took it, and drank it all. The next thing I knew, I was waking up with the worst headache of my life. I was also naked, wrapped up in bed sheets, and had bruises lining my body.

"I should have known you'd be a hyper drunk." Haymitch said with a smirk, glass of whiskey in hand, at the end of my bed. I squinted at him, trying to make my vision balance. A groan escaped my lips.

"What I didn't figure was that you would be so rough. Got a lot of frustration out, Princess?" I could hear Haymitch's laughter even after I covered my head with a pillow, a blush on my cheeks. As I put together in my mind the things that happened the night before, I told myself that I'd never drink a full bottle of whiskey again.

As the years passed, it wasn't the last time we were together, but every other time, I made sure that I was sober. Our relationship was dysfunctional, with neither of us coming right out and saying how we feel. We didn't have to. We knew by each others actions.

We listened as Katniss and Peeta each came to Haymitch's house, trying to get us to side with them on matters such as marriage and children. They seemed to stay at odds on these subjects, but as the years passed, Peeta usually prevailed.

"Katniss, stay awake, honey, please!" I said to her, cupping her face into my hands. "Do you hear me?" Katniss nodded, squeezing Peeta's hand as tight as she could. Moments later, a baby girl was born into the world. A few years later she was back in the same hospital bed, giving birth to a baby boy. The joy didn't last long for me, however. While Katniss and Peeta had their hands full with two children now, I had my hands full with Haymitch. It seems that all of those times I told Haymitch he was drinking himself into an early grave, I had been right.

I look at Haymitch in pity as he finishes another one of his coughing spells.

"Let me hear your heartbeat." I say, putting my head on his chest. His heartbeat is irregular. Again. I move away from Haymitch and turn, trying to wipe the tears away.

"I didn't know that the fact that I'm still alive was that upsetting." Haymitch says. He's trying to make a joke to lighten the mood, but it's no use.

"I'm taking you to the hospital. Your skin is turning yellow, even though you're not going through withdrawal. You're coughing and wheezing, you have an irregular heartbeat, you're losing weight and you're getting weaker. I'm not stupid, Haymitch. I'm a nurse now. Your liver is failing." Haymitch frowns.

"Well what do you expect doctors to do if something inside me is failing, Princess?" Haymitch asks. I roll my eyes.

"I'm worried, Haymitch. About you. Please let me admit you." I beg him to go, but Haymitch refuses, even as the symptoms get worse. As the months go on, Haymitch has to stay in bed, too tired and weak to get out. I cut off his alcohol, and I'm not sure if that helps him or hurts him even more. Daisy and Rowan stop by sometimes along with their parents, which whether he admits it or not, seems to cheer him up.

"Are you going to die?" Rowan asks suddenly. The question startles us all, except for Haymitch, who smirks.

"Rowan, dear, it's not polite to ask questions like that." I say, giving a worried look to Katniss and Peeta. We've all been wondering that question ourselves.

"It seems like it." Haymitch says to him, which makes Rowan frown. I quickly assure Rowan that he wasn't being serious, although everyone can tell that he was. Peeta excuses them all to leave, and after goodbyes are said, I wait until I hear the door close to speak to Haymitch.

"Don't scare the children like that." I say seriously.

"It's the truth. Katniss wouldn't want me to lie to them. Peeta, either." Haymitch coughs, and I pat his back.

"You are not going to die. You're a victor. Victors don't die, that's why they're called that. That's the whole point of the word."

"Nobody's a victor forever, Effie." Haymitch says, and I wince, knowing he's right. We stare at each other for a moment as tears well up in my eyes.

"What am I supposed to do then? Huh? Did you even think about me?" I say angrily, and I take to organizing syringes on the end table by his bed.

"What's there to think about?" Haymitch says. He doesn't say it meanly, but his words cut in a way only he can. I fling the syringes on the floor and slap the end table.

"We've been through too much to die now." I yell.

"You're not the one dying, Princess." Haymitch notes. "I am. I'm here on my death bed and we both know it. I should have been here over 30 years ago."

"Don't say that." I say quietly. "There's a reason you survived."

"And what's that, Princess? To help the rebellion? To help Katniss and Peeta? Or maybe we should get sentimental here. Was it so I could meet you?" Haymitch says mockingly, but then his voice turns cold. "Life doesn't have a purpose. We're all just thrown here, and when we die, we die."

"What about Katniss and Peeta, then? Are you saying they don't have a purpose either?"

"Katniss and Peeta were just two kids trying to survive who got caught up in the politics of a horrible place. They're where they are today by chance, that's it." Haymitch's tone is harsh, but sad, and I can't stop the tears from spilling over.

"You don't believe that. I don't know what you do really believe, but it's not that. It can't be that. I also know that you can't come all this way just to give up and die now. You're a victor. Maybe victors die, but I know they don't die without a fight." I tell him. Angry, I gather up the syringes from the floor and leave, slamming the door behind me.

The argument we had prompted him to finally admit himself to the hospital, where they take better care of him than I ever could if he were to stay at his house. Two months later, on a late summer afternoon, Haymitch has a stroke. Even with the advance medical equipment, his body is too worn out and damaged to handle the stroke, and with a final squeeze to my hand, Haymitch dies. My reaction is immediate, but I can't seem to remember much of it, because the doctors didn't have to go a long way to get a sedative.

I'm put in charge of his funeral, and for a day I honestly believe I can't handle planning it, much less attending it. But I do, no matter how difficult it is. Because I'm Effie Trinket, and I can do anything when I put my mind to it.

The day of the funeral, I'm expecting a small service. Katniss and Peeta, Daisy and Rowan, and maybe a few others from the Hob. Plutarch sends his regards through letter, as does Johanna, Annie, Mrs. Everdeen, and there's even a small note attached on the back of Mrs. Everdeen's letter from Gale. When I get to graveyard, however, what I find is truly touching.

A crowd of people are there, formed in a circle around Haymitch's casket. They seem to be dressed in the best clothes they can find, which briefly reminds me of Reaping Day. Immediately throwing away that terrible thought, I politely maneuver my way into the middle of the circle with Katniss, Peeta, Daisy, and Rowan. Daisy and Rowan seem to have some sort of flower in their hands, while Katniss and Peeta each carry a bottle of liquor.

A few guys, Peeta included, help lower Haymitch's casket into the ground, and Peeta and Katniss place their bottle of liquor on the top. Daisy, eyes puffy from crying, hands me a single, purple flower to place into his grave. I hold her hand as the three of us place the flowers in his grave silently. Then, while Peeta and the rest of the men shovel the dirt into the grave, the people of district 12 do something I haven't seen since the war. Holding three fingers up, they hang their heads in mourning. Katniss, staring at the grave, holds three fingers up. Daisy and Rowan look around curiously, then hold three fingers up, too. Once Peeta's done, he slips his hand into Katniss' and holds his fingers up as well.

Tears spill over as I shakily hold up three fingers, using the other hand to silence my sobs. We all stand like that for a few minutes, then slowly, one by one, people leave. Peeta takes Daisy and Rowan home as Katniss and I are the last two standing by Haymitch's fresh grave.

"He loved you. So much. All of you." I say to Katniss, whose eyes never leave his grave. "No matter how much he may have said or acted otherwise, he did. I know it." Without even acknowledging me, Katniss turns to walk away. She takes a few steps before turning around.

"Effie?" Katniss says. I turn to face her. "You too." I give her a sad smile. I sit down by his grave, crying for what seems like hours. Maybe it was. It feels wrong to live in a world where Haymitch isn't here. I keep expecting him to walk up and laugh at his own grave, and mock me for crying. Maybe this was all a sick joke. Maybe I'm just having another nightmare. As I get up and walk back to the house, I realize that he's not coming back. He's not going to be there ever again. My nightmares get worse.

I tend to go to his grave often, because without him the house is lonely. I always suspect he's around the corner, drinking and ready to give me a smartass comment. Plutarch calls to ask if it would be alright if a crew came to District 12 for footage of Haymitch's house, but I refuse. He wouldn't like a documentary to be made about him, much less TV crews coming into his house. Plutarch doesn't seem too happy about my answer, but surprisingly, he doesn't pester me too much about it. Maybe he sensed that now wasn't the time to argue with me about it. I get sad at that thought. Arguments were _our_ thing.

Haymitch's death still gets a lot of attention, however, and I couldn't turn on any news channel for days without seeing one of the headlines as 'Quarter Quell Victor Dies at Age 64'. They talk about how tragic it is that he died so young, but what would they know about tragedy? Some days, I'm convinced I can still feel Haymitch next to me when I wake up, as if we were together the night before. Just like old times. But he's not.

It gets easier, over time, and I watch as Daisy turns into a beautiful teenager. Katniss usually sends her over when Daisy needs makeup help or a girl's night out, which I don't mind at all. Katniss was never good at those things, something that Katniss and I both knew. Despite Daisy being a complete girly girl, she still knows how to hunt, and it seems she has developed her grandmother and late aunt's talent for healing. I help her get an internship at the hospital, where she astounds people with her talent almost daily. Rowan, on the other hand, reminds me of Katniss all over. He gets just as much joy out of hunting as Katniss does, and I frequently see them hauling game bags around town. He also has a talent for painting, probably from Peeta's influence. I even have a few of his paintings hanging up in the living room.

I frequently write letters to Haymitch, as I find it clears my mind. I tell him about events that are happening, and how District 12 is thriving. I wish he could see it. It's better this way, I always remind myself. Now he can rest, healthy and free from nightmares and his dependence on alcohol. This doesn't change the fact that I still miss him. I don't know many things about love, but I'm pretty sure I loved him. I think he loved me, too. Maybe we never said it out loud, but our actions were enough. That's what I tell Daisy, too, when she asks.

**The End**


End file.
